CHAPTER XIX THE END OF THE JOURNEY

Dr. Brady regarded Dick for a moment thoughtfully. There was, Dick observed, a certain hesitation about his manner.

“Before we left Fort Mackenzie,” the physician began, “your Inspector Cameron called me to his office. He told me about the epidemic. I remember that there was a large map that hung on the wall behind his desk, and to this map he frequently referred. The districts affected by smallpox he had encircled in red ink. All of these were north of the Mackenzie: one straight north, several northwest, but the largest area of all northeast, in a district which he called Keechewan.”

Brady paused to help Dick unharness one of his dogs, then continued:

“The circle on the map which he called Keechewan was, he explained to me, the country most dangerously affected by smallpox and contained the greatest number of people.
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“‘This is to be your territory,’ he told me. ‘I’m giving you a most difficult task indeed. Not only will you experience difficulty in reaching your destination, but when you do reach it, you may have trouble with the natives there. There has been an uprising among several of the Indian tribes. Relations between the white people and the Indians are strained. There has been some bloodshed. Your work will not be easy. It is sure to be dangerous, and possibly, doctor, you may never come back.’

“I asked him if anything had been done to relieve the situation. He said that he had sent one of his men, a Corporal Rand, up to that region a few days before to take charge. He was to place the district under police rule.”

Dr. Brady cleared his throat.

“I guess that’s about all, Dick, but you can see what I’m driving at.”

“Yes,” Dick answered, “I think I know what you’re trying to tell me. Corporal Rand never reached his destination. Misfortune overtook him with the result that the uprising at Keechewan has never been put down.”

“Exactly. The district, when we reach it, will not be under police surveillance. We can expect trouble.”
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During the trip from Mackenzie River barracks, Dick had learned to admire and respect the genial man whom he was conducting to Keechewan. Never had he occasion to doubt the doctor’s courage. In every emergency, he had not been found wanting. Yet in the present instance he seemed much worried. Was he really afraid? Dick decided to try him out.

“We may be risking our lives by going to Keechewan now,” he said. “Do you realize that, Dr. Brady?”

“Yes, I realize it.”

“I sometimes wonder,” Dick evaded the other’s eyes. “—I sometimes wonder if it is all worth while. Most of them are only Indians. They not only do not appreciate what we’re doing for them, but more than that, they resent and scorn our help. Why not,” Dick’s gaze was fixed on some object on the distant horizon, “leave them to their own devices, let them suffer the consequences?”

If Dick had struck Brady in the face, the good doctor could not have been more surprised. For a moment he actually sputtered.

“Richard Kent! Do you mean that? Do you really mean to say that you contemplate such a thing—would leave those poor devils in the lurch?”

Dick raised one hand and grinned mischievously.

“There, there, doctor! Such a thought hadn’t entered my mind, I assure you.”

“You rascal! So you were trying me out?”

Dick laughed as he turned the dogs loose And straightened up to take Brady’s arm.

“Well, what do you propose to do?”
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“That’s just the question I want to ask you.”

“There’s only one thing that I can see: Do our work and Corporal Rand’s too.”

“Yes, that’s what I was thinking, why I came to you just now. I wondered if you had considered the situation.”

“To tell you the truth, I hadn’t. I’ve had so many other things to worry me.”

“We can’t be far from Keechewan mission now,” stated the doctor.

“Only a few more days. Those hills you see over there in the distance must be the divide Inspector Cameron spoke of. From there it is not very far to Keechewan, provided, of course, that we don’t get lost again, that our Indians know the way. We’ll soon enter the barren lands.”

For the time being, the subject was dropped. But Dick did not forget that interview. Often, during the next three or four days, he found himself contemplating the future with worried, thoughtful gaze. He took inventory of his munitions and his provisions. Not counting Corporal Rand, there were eight men in the party, really not a very strong force, yet he comforted himself with the thought that Corporal Rand had gone forth alone to cope with the situation.
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One evening, after they had crossed the divide and had pitched their tents on a hill, dark with the shadows of approaching night, a driver drew attention to an unusual phenomenon. Far away, faint, yet plainly discernible, was the glimmering of many tiny lights. These lights blinked and beckoned to them—and a cry of elation went up from every member of the party.

“The mission!” boomed Sandy, throwing his parka high in the air. “Keechewan Mission!”

“Not more than eight miles away,” adjudged Dick.

“More than that,” said Toma.

“We’ll arrive there tomorrow forenoon sometime,” exulted the doctor.

That night, so elated were they, that they could hardly sleep. Dick and Sandy lay awake until a late hour, talking and planning. On the following morning, they rose early to waken the camp. Breakfast was hurried through, and they were on the trail nearly an hour before sunrise.

It was eleven o’clock by Dick’s watch, when they entered the mission village, their eyes feasting on the row of snow-roofed cabins that fronted the winding, narrow street.
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Here and there, a face appeared at a window. Now and again, some incurious form opened a door and watched them go by. But no one was abroad on the single narrow street. Had it not been for the sight of smoke, circling upward from mud chimneys, one might have thought that the village was practically deserted. There hovered about it an atmosphere of loneliness. There was something ominous about it, too, something eerie and unnatural. Dick felt somehow as if he were proceeding through a village of the dead. This feeling was accentuated by the sight of many red flags, draped over windows, hanging from doors—mute tokens of a terrible visitation.

It was a mournful little party that drew up in front of the small but picturesque Catholic Church at the far end of the winding street. They stood there as if in doubt and perplexity, looking at each other, no one volunteering to be the first to move or make a suggestion. Finally, Dick called to Dr. Brady and the two strode across to a more or less pretentious two-storey dwelling, immediately beyond the church.

A little man, dressed in the flowing robes of a monk, answered Dick’s timorous knock. The priest started in surprise as he perceived who his visitors were, then his face brightened and, with a friendly gesture, he motioned them within.

“Ah!” he said, a slight but unmistakable catch in his voice. “White men! How do you do. You honor me, monsieurs. May I not bid you welcome?”
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“Inspector Cameron of the mounted police sent us here to help you,” explained Dick. “This gentleman here,” indicating Dr. Brady, “is an Edmonton physician. I am Dick Kent.”

The priest nodded understandingly and led the way to a small but nicely furnished room, standing aside as his visitors entered. At one end of the room, a spruce log burned brightly in the mud fireplace. There were several comfortable chairs and a large bookcase, filled with row upon row of books. Near the bookcase was a desk, fitted with drawers, and on its smooth, highly-polished surface were papers, ink, and a small bronze statue of the Christ.

The atmosphere of the room was cheerful and inviting, and Dick and Dr. Brady immediately felt at ease. They took the chairs their host indicated, waiting for him to speak.

“I sent a message to Inspector Cameron,” the priest began fluently, “about six weeks ago. I am glad to see that he is sending help to my stricken people. You, doctor, are especially welcome. We have done all that we possibly can to check the course of the terrible disease, but our efforts, I am sorry to inform you, have not been very successful. Many, many deaths have taken place. The villagers are almost without hope. There are many bereaved, monsieurs, much suffering and,” he hesitated for a brief moment, “much complaining.”
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“Inspector Cameron,” said Dr. Brady, “told us about an uprising of some sort. Has the mission been attacked?”

“It has,” the priest nodded. “Twice there has been a general attack, which we repulsed. Since then we have not been left in peace. Skulkers come here at night and attempt to fire our dwellings. One man, a loyal and true friend of mine, was shot down in the street. We live in apprehension. Daily, there is some new outrage to add to the complexity of our other troubles.”

Dick looked across at the grave but patient face.

“We will do all in our power to help you,” he encouraged him. “We will attempt to deal with these skulkers and prevent an uprising. Does most of your trouble come from outside the village?”

“For the most part, yes. There are several Indian tribes in the vicinity. At first we went among them, caring for their sick, but lately we have not been able to do this because of their warlike attitude. On the last occasion one of us went there, Father Levereaux was treated most shamefully, subjected to many indignities, and finally left outside their village. He was hurt and unconscious when we found him. He has now, I am glad to inform you, recovered from his injuries, but I fear that he has contracted smallpox. Last night, when I went to his room, he was very ill.”
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“I will attend him,” said Dr. Brady, while Dick rose to his feet.

“There are nine men in our party,” Dick said. “Perhaps there is an empty dwelling somewhere where we can stay.”

“There are several places,” the priest answered, “any one of which I can place at your disposal.”

He, too, arose. “I will lead you there. You must rest after your journey. I can see that you are very tired. I must find you something to eat.”

“No,” objected Dr. Brady, “we must start to work at once.”

“What do you propose to do first?” asked the priest.

“Vaccinate every person in the village. After that I’ll attend to those who already have the disease.”

“Have you plenty of medicines and supplies?”

“Yes.”

The other’s face wreathed in a smile.

“That is wonderful, monsieur. It was very kind of you to come. In my heart I thank the noble Inspector of Police. Praise God, I think we have come to the end of our trouble. I am very happy, monsieurs.”

And tears of gladness slowly trickled down his cheeks.