CONTENTS
I. THE SAVING OF GRAY MOOSE. 5 II. THE HOTEL IN BONAVENTURE STREET 11 III. FLORA HATHERTON. 17 IV. MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS. 22 V. THE ALARM IN THE NIGHT. 28 VI. PREPARATIONS FOR FLIGHT. 31 VII. THE SKIPPER OF THE SPEEDWELL. 36 VIII. CLOSE TO PORT. 42 IX. AT THE MERCY OF THE SEA. 45 X. THE DAWN OF DAY. 51 XI. A COPY OF "THE TIMES." 54 XII. A WARNING IN WOODCRAFT. 60 XIII. THE AMBUSCADE. 64 XIV. AN INDIAN'S GRATITUDE. 68 XV. FORT ROYAL. 72 XVI. A RESOLVE THAT FAILED. 76 XVII. A STRANGE WARNING. 80 XVIII. A STOLEN INTERVIEW. 86 XIX. ANOTHER VISITOR. 90 XX. THE LOST LOCKET. 93 XXI. THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 99 XXII. HOT WORK. 103 XXIII. THE SECOND RUSH. 108 XXIV. A BLACK NIGHT. 114 XXV. A RAY OF HOPE. 118 XXVI. AS TWILIGHT FELL. 123 XXVII. THE SIEGE OF THE HOUSE. 126 XXVIII. THE END OF HOPE. 131 XXIX. THE SECRET OF THE FACTOR'S DESK. 136 XXX. A STRANGE DISCOVERY. 141 XXXI. A CRY IN THE NIGHT. 146 XXXII. THE TRAVELER FROM ALASKA. 150 XXXIII. A CONVIVIAL MORNING. 156 XXXIV. ON THE WAY. 161 XXXV. RETRIBUTION. 165 XXXVI. A PAINFUL MYSTERY. 170 XXXVII. REST AND HAPPINESS. 174 XXXVIII. GOOD NEWS. 177 XXXIX. A MESSAGE. 182 XL. A STARTLING CHANGE. 186 XLI. BACK FROM THE DEAD. 191 XLII. TRUNK 409. 196 XLIII. A DRAMATIC INTERRUPTION. 200 XLIV. THE RIGHTFUL CLAIMANT. 205 XLV. FORGING THE LINKS. 209 XLVI. THE ALARM. 215 XLVII. CONCLUSION. 218
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE CRYPTOGRAM.
CHAPTER I.
THE SAVING OF GRAY MOOSE.
I have long had in mind to set down the story of my early life, and now, as I draw pen and paper to me for the commencement of the task, I feel the inspiration of those who wrote straight from the heart. It is unlikely that this narrative will ever appear in print, but if it does the reader may rely on its truthfulness and accuracy from beginning to end, strange and incredulous though parts of it may seem.
Thirty years ago! It is a long time, but the magic power of memory laughs at wider gulfs. Every incident comes back to me with the vividness and clearness of yesterday. I hear the echo of voices that have been silent these many years. Dead faces, some smiling and some looking fierce-haired, take dim shape in the corners of the room.
Beyond the open window, where birds are twittering in the overhanging ivy, an English landscape of meadow and woodland, hills and hamlets, rolls far in the sunshine of a June morning. It is the year 1846, in the reign of her gracious majesty, Queen Victoria. I close my eyes, and I am back in another world. I see the Great Lone Land--its rivers and lakes, its plains and peaks, its boundless leagues of wilderness stretching from sea to sea. I sniff the fragrant odors of snow-clad birch and pine, of marsh pools glimmering in the dying glow of a summer sun. I hear the splash of paddles and the glide of sledge-runners, the patter of flying moose and deer, and the scream of the hungry panther. I feel the weird, fascinating spell of the solitude and silence.
The Great Lone Land! Truly, to those who have known it, a name to conjure with! As it was then so it remains to-day, that vast, mysterious, romantic realm of the Canadas. The territory of the Hudson Bay Company, chartered remotely and by royal warrant when Charles II was king; the home of the Red Indian and the voyageur, the half-breed trapper and hunter, the gentlemen adventurers of England, Scotland and France; a land of death by Indian treachery and grizzlies, starvation and freezing, snowslides and rapids; a mighty wilderness, with canoes and sledges for the vehicles of travel and commerce, and forest trails joining the scattered trading posts.
There I, Denzil Carew, was born. There was my home from the cradle to manhood, and there my story lies. In that wild country I
......
I. THE SAVING OF GRAY MOOSE. 5 II. THE HOTEL IN BONAVENTURE STREET 11 III. FLORA HATHERTON. 17 IV. MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS. 22 V. THE ALARM IN THE NIGHT. 28 VI. PREPARATIONS FOR FLIGHT. 31 VII. THE SKIPPER OF THE SPEEDWELL. 36 VIII. CLOSE TO PORT. 42 IX. AT THE MERCY OF THE SEA. 45 X. THE DAWN OF DAY. 51 XI. A COPY OF "THE TIMES." 54 XII. A WARNING IN WOODCRAFT. 60 XIII. THE AMBUSCADE. 64 XIV. AN INDIAN'S GRATITUDE. 68 XV. FORT ROYAL. 72 XVI. A RESOLVE THAT FAILED. 76 XVII. A STRANGE WARNING. 80 XVIII. A STOLEN INTERVIEW. 86 XIX. ANOTHER VISITOR. 90 XX. THE LOST LOCKET. 93 XXI. THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 99 XXII. HOT WORK. 103 XXIII. THE SECOND RUSH. 108 XXIV. A BLACK NIGHT. 114 XXV. A RAY OF HOPE. 118 XXVI. AS TWILIGHT FELL. 123 XXVII. THE SIEGE OF THE HOUSE. 126 XXVIII. THE END OF HOPE. 131 XXIX. THE SECRET OF THE FACTOR'S DESK. 136 XXX. A STRANGE DISCOVERY. 141 XXXI. A CRY IN THE NIGHT. 146 XXXII. THE TRAVELER FROM ALASKA. 150 XXXIII. A CONVIVIAL MORNING. 156 XXXIV. ON THE WAY. 161 XXXV. RETRIBUTION. 165 XXXVI. A PAINFUL MYSTERY. 170 XXXVII. REST AND HAPPINESS. 174 XXXVIII. GOOD NEWS. 177 XXXIX. A MESSAGE. 182 XL. A STARTLING CHANGE. 186 XLI. BACK FROM THE DEAD. 191 XLII. TRUNK 409. 196 XLIII. A DRAMATIC INTERRUPTION. 200 XLIV. THE RIGHTFUL CLAIMANT. 205 XLV. FORGING THE LINKS. 209 XLVI. THE ALARM. 215 XLVII. CONCLUSION. 218
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE CRYPTOGRAM.
CHAPTER I.
THE SAVING OF GRAY MOOSE.
I have long had in mind to set down the story of my early life, and now, as I draw pen and paper to me for the commencement of the task, I feel the inspiration of those who wrote straight from the heart. It is unlikely that this narrative will ever appear in print, but if it does the reader may rely on its truthfulness and accuracy from beginning to end, strange and incredulous though parts of it may seem.
Thirty years ago! It is a long time, but the magic power of memory laughs at wider gulfs. Every incident comes back to me with the vividness and clearness of yesterday. I hear the echo of voices that have been silent these many years. Dead faces, some smiling and some looking fierce-haired, take dim shape in the corners of the room.
Beyond the open window, where birds are twittering in the overhanging ivy, an English landscape of meadow and woodland, hills and hamlets, rolls far in the sunshine of a June morning. It is the year 1846, in the reign of her gracious majesty, Queen Victoria. I close my eyes, and I am back in another world. I see the Great Lone Land--its rivers and lakes, its plains and peaks, its boundless leagues of wilderness stretching from sea to sea. I sniff the fragrant odors of snow-clad birch and pine, of marsh pools glimmering in the dying glow of a summer sun. I hear the splash of paddles and the glide of sledge-runners, the patter of flying moose and deer, and the scream of the hungry panther. I feel the weird, fascinating spell of the solitude and silence.
The Great Lone Land! Truly, to those who have known it, a name to conjure with! As it was then so it remains to-day, that vast, mysterious, romantic realm of the Canadas. The territory of the Hudson Bay Company, chartered remotely and by royal warrant when Charles II was king; the home of the Red Indian and the voyageur, the half-breed trapper and hunter, the gentlemen adventurers of England, Scotland and France; a land of death by Indian treachery and grizzlies, starvation and freezing, snowslides and rapids; a mighty wilderness, with canoes and sledges for the vehicles of travel and commerce, and forest trails joining the scattered trading posts.
There I, Denzil Carew, was born. There was my home from the cradle to manhood, and there my story lies. In that wild country I
......
