In the fifth row, seventh from the left, hung a splendid briar that Donald had contributed, and it was to this that Peter Rainy had referred, since there was a rule that a man might borrow his pipe if he needed it, but must be sure to have it returned to its proper place.
Why should he break his pipe, and ask for the one in the hallway? That in his pocket was sweet and rich and mellow, the one in the hall an unsmoked instrument, which would keep his tongue blistered for many a day. But how to get it, even should he want it? That was a question he could not solve.
After a while, the prisoner, worn out with his long tramp, lay down on his cot, and fell into a heavy sleep, from which he was awakened by the old Indian, who came to bring him his breakfast. With the latter came a message utterly disconcerting.
"Captain McTavish," said the man, "there will be someone here to visit you later this morning."
"What have I done to deserve this punishment?" he asked himself. And then, aloud: "Why is she coming to see me?"
"I don't know," was the answer; "she merely told me to tell you."
When the expedition departed to Sturgeon Lake, but two white women had been left--Mrs. Gates, the missionary's wife, and Laura Fitzpatrick. The latter, a maiden upward of thirty-five, had decided to remain in solitary glory as mistress of the factor's house, feeling amply protected by the few white men left at the post.
The captive had reasons for not desiring this visit, outside of the possible impropriety. The summer before, during his happy weeks in Jean's company, circumstances often shaped themselves so that there were three persons on their little canoe trips and picnics--and the third was Miss Fitzpatrick. Her ingenuity in these matters had been positively remarkable. And the entire post had grinned up its sleeve, knowing old Fitzpatrick's declaration that Jean should not marry until Laura had been taken off his hands.
For the first time in her life, Laura had evinced an interest in the _genus_ man. Consequently, Donald now awaited her arrival with some trepidation.
About eleven o'clock she came, unaccompanied except by the old Indian who looked after McTavish's wants. She was small and spare, and wore glasses that enlarged her mild blue eyes. She had overcome nature's delinquency in the matter of luxurious hair by the application of a "transformation," done into numerous elastic curls. Because of the difficulty of communication with the outside world, this was now several shades lighter than her own, a fact which gave her great pain, but was really quite unavoidable.