If I think of anything else I’ll write at the landing and send it in by the August mail.  My regards to the boys.

Yours truly,

AMBROSE DOANE.

CHAPTER XVI.

COLINA COMMANDS.

On August 25, well within his schedule, Ambrose arrived at Spirit River
Crossing with ten loaded wagons.

For six long days they had been floundering through the bottomless mudholes of the portage trail and men and horses were alike played out; but the rest of the way to come was easy, and Ambrose paid off his drivers with a light heart.

The york boat and crew he had engaged at the crossing were non-existent, and no explanation forthcoming.  He had met with similar small reverses all along the line.  This one was not important; it meant three days delay to build a raft.

There was a current of nearly four miles an hour to carry him to his destination, and no rapids in the three hundred miles to endanger his cargo.

Tole Grampierre and his brother Germain were waiting for Ambrose.  With two such aides he could afford to smile at the mysterious scarcity of labor which developed on his arrival.

Tole’s budget of news from down the river contained nothing startling.  John Gaviller had been very sick all summer with pneumonia as a result of his wound.  He was getting better:  “pale and skinny as an old rabbit in the snow,” in Tole’s words.

Gaviller had sent up the launch to get what grain had been grown at the crossing; but it was not enough to fill his contracts for flour up north.  He had been obliged to pay two dollars a bushel for it.  Ambrose smiled at this piece of information.

Ambrose waited eagerly for some word of her who was seldom out of his thoughts, but to Tole the matter was not of such great importance.  Ambrose could not bring himself to name her name.  Not until Tole had covered everything else did he say casually: 

“Colina Gaviller rides all around on her yellow horse.  She is proud now.  Never speaks to the people.”

That was all.  Ambrose’s heart stirred with compassion for the one, who by her loyalty was forced to embrace the wrong cause.

Another time Tole remarked:  “Gordon Strange run the store all summer.”

“So!” said Ambrose.  “What do the people say about him?  What does your father say?”

Tole shrugged.  “He say not’ing,” he said cautiously.  He could not be induced to commit himself further in this direction.

They built their raft, and loading up, started without untoward incident.  Traveling day and night, allowing for stoppages and delays, they expected to be nearly five days on the way.

On the third day, Ambrose chafing at their slow progress, put the dugout overboard, and set off ahead to warn the settlement of their coming.  He had no hesitation leaving the raft with the Grampierre boys; they could handle it better than himself.