Daughters of the Dominion: A Story of the Canadian Frontier

Title: Daughters of the Dominion: A Story of the Canadian Frontier

Author: Bessie Marchant

Illustrator: W. Rainey

Release date: February 15, 2015 [eBook #48265] Most recently updated: October 24, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48265

Credits: Produced by Larry Harrison, Cindy Beyer and the Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net with images provided by CANADIANA.

Daughters of the Dominion

NELL NURSES THE STRANGER

Daughters of the

Dominion

A Story of the Canadian Frontier

BY

BESSIE MARCHANT

AUTHOR OF “SISTERS OF SILVER CREEK,” “A HEROINE OF THE SEA,”

“HOPE’S TRYST” ETC.

ILLUSTRATED BY WILLIAM RAINEY, R.I.

TORONTO

THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY

LIMITED

Canada is a great mother; there is room in her heart

not merely for her own children, but for the needy of

every nation. They may all come to her and find a home,

if only they will work to earn it.

CONTENTS

I. The Lone House at Blue Bird Ridge

II. Nell’s Dilemma

III. The Old Coat

IV. What the New Day brought

V. Summoned Home

VI. A Strange Welcome

VII. A New Vocation

VIII. Moved on

IX. A Friend in Need

X. To Fill the Breach

XI. The Recognition of Mrs. Nichols

XII. Nell Learns her Family History

XIII. On the List

XIV. Promoted

XV. The New Resident

XVI. Camp’s Gulch

XVII. One-sided Confidences

XVIII. The Dead Chinaman

XIX. To the Rescue

XX. Fairly Caught

XXI. A Patient for Mrs. Nichols

XXII. The Fate of the Prisoner

XXIII. Honouring the Heroine

XXIV. A Sister by Adoption

XXV. The Humours of Trading

XXVI. A Woman of Business

XXVII. An Early Customer

XXVIII. Doss Umpey’s Excuses

XXIX. The Arrival

XXX. An Adventure

XXXI. Dividing the Family

ILLUSTRATIONS

Nell nurses the Stranger

“Come right in, will you, please, miss?”

“Nell found that she was by far the more expert on snow-shoes”

“For me? But I don’t expect any parcel!”

The rescue-party discover Nell on the Railway Track

“I heard a little about a friend of yours away down in the city,” he said.

CHAPTER I The Lone House at Blue Bird Ridge

“NELL, Nell, where are you? I want you to give an eye to the dog; the creature has had a dreadful mauling,” shouted Doss Umpey, in petulant tones. He had thrust his head in at the open door, and seemed quite angry to find that there was no one moving about in the houseplace.

“I’m coming, granfer,” cried a voice, somewhere out of sight. Then there was a shaking of the rickety ladder which stood in the far corner of the dark little room, and a thin girl in very shabby clothes came slowly into view.

No one would have called Nell, otherwise Eleanor Hamblyn, at this period of her life, a pretty girl. Two good points, however, she possessed: one a sweet, low voice, that excellent thing in woman; the other a pair of beautiful luminous eyes, which made those who saw them forget the defects of her face and figure.

“You never are on hand when you are wanted. What you find to do in that old loft all the time just about passes my comprehension,” growled the old man, whose temper was none of the sweetest.

“Well, I ain’t far off when I’m wanted, anyhow,” replied Nell, good-humouredly. Then she asked in an anxious tone, “What’s the matter with Pip?”

“Got mauled pretty badly; must have been having a turn with a wolf, I should say, only it’s early for wolves to be getting troublesome. So p’r’aps he’s been fighting a wild dog.”

“There ain’t no wild dogs round here,” objected Nell, with a shake of her head.

“I’m not so sure of that. Last time I was over to Button End, Job Lipton said he’d seen a buff-coloured beast hunting rabbits on the ridges, and that there’d been a talk of sheep being killed out Lewisville way,” the old man said, as he turned from the door. Nell followed him to inspect the dog, which lay helpless on the edge of the forest.

The house, a wooden one, old and weather-beaten, was perched on a high woody ridge in the great forests stretching along the American side of the Canadian frontier. A mighty Valparaiso oak grew on one side of the house, giving shade in summer and shelter in winter, but the forest had been pushed back on either side, to make room for a small orchard of wind-twisted apple-trees.

It was a lovely day in late September, but the fall of the summer could be seen in the changing hues of the maples, which flamed into crimson and gold, lighting up the sombre green of the other trees.

Pip was a big deerhound, fierce of aspect, and the creature lay at the edge of the clearing, where it had fallen, exhausted in its effort to get home after the fray, in which it had plainly come off second best. It was covered with blood and wounds, one ear being torn in a ghastly fashion.

“Oh, you poor dear thing! Good old Pip, you have been having a rough time!” exclaimed Nell, dropping on her knees beside the dog, and touching it gently here and there.

The creature wagged its tail feebly, as if it understood and appreciated her sympathy; then uttered a whining cry.

“Thirsty, are you? I’ll get you drink, and rig up a little curtain to keep the flies from bothering,” she said in the soothing tone one would use towards a child that had been injured.

“Couldn’t you help me to carry Pip indoors, granfer? I could look after it so much better there,” she said, when she had brought the water, which the creature feebly lapped.

“The dog will be cooler out here, and we can bring it in at nightfall. I’ve got some work to do down beyond now, and can’t be bothered.”

It was characteristic of Doss Umpey that he had always work to do down beyond whenever Nell wanted any assistance from him, so she made up her mind that when he was safely out of the way she would manage somehow to get poor Pip into more comfortable quarters.

Despite the work he had spoken of, the old man seemed in no hurry to go, but stood leaning at ease against the bole of a great redwood tree, talking in the dreamy fashion which always seemed to suit him much better than hard work.

He was not a really old man, being only about sixty-five, strong and hearty, but with a constitutional aversion to sustained effort of any sort.

“There’s no mistake but you are right-down handy at tending critters that are ill. A first-class nurse you’d make, Nell, if only you’d got the chance,” he said, watching her active ministrations to the dog with lazy admiration.

“Why don’t you give me the chance, then?” she retorted quickly. “I’d love to be a nurse, or to be anything that would help me to get on. Just look at me, granfer. I’m seventeen to-day, and I’m just good for nothing. I can’t even keep house properly, because I ain’t got the things to do it with.”

“I’m a poor man, or maybe I’d have done a better part by you; though, as folks are always telling me, it isn’t every lone man like me that would have been bothered with bringing up a child as didn’t really belong to him,” Doss Umpey said, puffing out his chest with an air of satisfaction. He always prided himself a great deal on this, the one charitable act of his life, but it is open to doubt whether Nell would not have been better off if she had been left to the tender mercies of some orphan asylum when her father died, than she was in the care of a grandfather who troubled himself so little about her interests.

“If only I’d crossed the border and settled in Canada when I was a young man, it would have been a deal better for me all round,” he said, leaning his head back against the redwood and gazing pensively up into the sky.

“Why didn’t you?” demanded Nell, as she gently bathed Pip’s torn ear in cool water.

“Circumstances were against me. Most things have been against me somehow,” he said, with a reflective sigh.

“Look here, granfer, couldn’t we go now?” she asked eagerly. “We couldn’t be poorer than we are here, and if we lived where there were more people, I could get work to do at helping, that would bring in money.”

“We’ll see about it, girl, in a few weeks, maybe, but it would be an undertaking, I can tell you, to go such a long way.”

“How far is it to the frontier, granfer?” asked Nell, who as ever was athirst for information.

“Oh, a good few miles. Why, you can walk for thirty miles on this trail, without coming to anything bigger than a woodcutter’s hut, and when you’ve done the thirty miles you are still a goodish distance from the border. But if anything ever happens to me, you’d best make tracks over the border as fast as you can go.”

“Why?” she asked, throwing back her head to get a better look at him, then blinking like an owl, because the sun came into her eyes.

“For ever so many reasons. Canada is a land of promise for young people. Then, English law, by which, of course, I mean Canadian law, is kinder to lone women and girls than American. But I must be stirring, or that bit o’ work down beyond won’t get done by sundown.” And the old man prepared to shuffle off at a slow, comfortable crawl, which was his usual rate of travel.

But there was a request Nell had to prefer before he went, and she rose up hurriedly to intercept his going.

“Granfer, I’m seventeen to-day; mayn’t I have the box of mother’s things that father left for you to take care of? He said I was to have them when I was seventeen.”

“So he did, only I’d forgotten all about it, and, now I come to think of it, I lost the key a good few years back, so you’ll just have to wait till I come home again, then I’ll get out my tools and prise the lid open.”

Doss Umpey quickened his pace then, as if anxious not to be recalled, and was soon out of sight, hidden from view by the trees.

Nell heaved an impatient sigh, but busied herself with the dog; then, when she had made the poor creature as comfortable as she could, she went back to her secret avocations in the loft.

This loft was her refuge, the one place where she was secure from interruption. The roof was open to the shingles, so above, below, and at the sides it was all bare brown wood, without any attempt at adornment of any kind. Window proper there was none, but a hinged shutter in the western gable let in sunshine and fresh air, and, weather permitting, this stood open night and day.

There were no small prettinesses such as may be found in many a chamber belonging to girls who are poor. But, all the same, it did not lack individuality. It was scrupulously clean and well kept, while on a packing-case, standing near the open shutter, were arranged a small pile of books, a bigger heap of newspapers, a bottle of ink, a pen, and a few stumps of pencils.

Here every day Nell did her best to carry on her education, reading everything she could get hold of, and writing extracts from her scanty library on the margins of the newspapers, because she had no writing-paper or exercise books.

She had been hard at work here when her grandfather called her down to attend to the dog, and she went back to her occupation when he had gone away, and she had left Pip as comfortable as circumstances permitted.

But now her attention wandered; the talk about Canada had excited her, while the disappointment about the box was depressing.

Presently she pushed her work aside, and went down the ladder to the lower room. The box containing the things which had belonged to her dead mother stood there. It was only a small box, but strongly made and clamped with iron. Nell had not seen inside it since her father died, but she knew what it contained. There were frocks and coats belonging to her mother, a gold watch and chain, a gold bracelet, and some brooches. The jewelry was of no great value from a monetary point of view, but it was precious beyond price to the girl, whose memory of her mother grew every day more faint and indistinct.

“Just to think that granfer should lose the key, when I wanted it so badly!” she murmured to herself, as she leaned over the box, touching it with caressing fingers.

At that moment the sound of a deep-drawn sigh caught her ear, and lifting her head she saw a strange man standing on the threshold and clinging to the door-frame.

CHAPTER II Nell’s Dilemma

A TURN in the trail revealed steeply rising ground, which caused Dick Bronson, spent as he was, to stand still and groan.

It was two days since he had lost his horse in a swamp. The poor creature had been sucked under by the treacherous mud, and as he was unable to extricate it, he had shot the animal with his revolver to end its sufferings.

Since then he had walked and walked, following this mysterious trail which appeared to lead to nowhere, yet which was sufficiently open and well defined to make him certain that he must in time arrive at some habitation, if only he kept on long enough.

But a big forest is an awkward place for a man on foot to get lost in; and Dick Bronson was well aware that the trail might meander on for another thirty miles without passing a human habitation, only he had come to the limit of his endurance, and could go no farther.

As he leaned against the trunk of a mighty cedar, wondering if death from starvation and exhaustion were a long pain, or whether merciful stupor would soon claim him, his weary gaze swept earth and sky in mute farewell.

Then he was suddenly roused to new life and energy by perceiving a thin column of smoke rising against the clear blue of the sky, immediately on the top of the high ground, where the trees grew with wide, open spaces between.

Smoke meant fire, and fire meant people, which in turn meant food of some sort. And the man who had been fasting so long felt that it mattered little what kind of food it was, if only it could stay the gnawing pangs of hunger and give him back his strength once more.

Slowly and painfully he breasted the sharp ascent, only to find that another and longer slope lay before him. But at the top of this second hill stood a wooden house in plain view, with a hospitably open door, and smoke rising from the chimney.

He could not be said to quicken his steps, for he was too worn out for that. But the sight of the open door and the chimney smoke revived his flagging hopes and turned his thoughts from death to life again.

As he came nearer to the house he saw something which, at first sight, he took for a baby’s cradle, with a little awning over it, just at the edge of the forest. Coming nearer, he saw it was no cradle, but a huge dog lying under a tent made of muslin or mosquito netting.

The creature lifted its head feebly, and uttered a low, warning growl at the approach of the stranger; but as it did not move, and was apparently sick or wounded, Dick Bronson came on without hesitation, and, passing the little tent, walked with feeble, uncertain steps towards the open door.

He caught at the door-frame to keep himself from lurching forward into the house, and then found himself confronted by a tall, thin girl in nondescript attire, of which the only details he could remember were a scanty skirt, deplorably shabby, and a man’s holland jacket.

“Will you give me food and shelter for a day or two? I am done up with wandering, and my horse died the day before yesterday.”

Dick’s voice was shaken and unsteady from all that he had gone through, and he looked even more an object of pity than he supposed.

The girl’s eyes were mournful, but she only shook her head, answering regretfully⁠—

“I’m very sorry for you, but this isn’t a hotel, and we don’t cater for strangers.”

“You will surely let me have some food. I can pay you; and can’t you see that I am starving?”

His voice was hoarse and urgent now, and again he had to lay fast hold of the door-frame to keep himself from falling.

“I will give you some food, though I’m afraid you won’t think it is very nice. But you can’t stop here, because granfer wouldn’t let you. Button End, where Joe Lipton lives, isn’t more than ten miles away. He’ll take you in for certain, and make you comfortable too. They often have people there,” the girl answered.

Dick laughed harshly. “A quarter of a mile I might manage by crawling; but ten miles is as much out of the question as a journey to the moon.”

The girl looked troubled, then said, in a soothing tone⁠—

“Come in and sit down, while I get you something to eat. Perhaps if you have a good rest you may⁠——”

But the sentence was not finished, for at that moment Dick swayed towards her, and would have gone crash on the floor at her feet had she not caught him in her strong young arms, and so broken his fall. Only staying to thrust an old coat of her grandfather’s under his head for a pillow, she darted to the fireplace, where a pot of broth was being kept warm in the embers, and, pouring some of it into a cup, came back with it, and kneeling by the stranger’s side tried to put some of it in his mouth with a spoon.

The broth was some that she had made for the sick dog, but it was strong and nourishing, and it was all she had. When a few spoonfuls had trickled down his neck, Dick came back to his senses again, and, being supported by the girl, was able to drink the rest of the broth in feeble gulps.

“Ah, you were nearly done for that time, you poor thing!” she said, in kindly tones, her lustrous eyes shining with a beautiful womanly pity.

“Yes, very nearly. If it had not been for you, I think I must have gone under,” he murmured weakly.

His senses were reeling still, but the broth was doing him good. Yet even now he failed to understand how low down in his strength he had come, until, making an effort to rise and stand on his feet, he sank helpless to the ground again.

There was anxiety mingled with the pity on the girl’s face. It was plain to her that the stranger would not be able to continue his journey for hours, probably days, and it was the thought of what Doss Umpey would say to this tax on his hospitality, that was troubling her so sorely now.

“If only you’d been at Joe Lipton’s place, now, instead of here, they could have made you ever so comfortable,” she said, with a sigh of regret, as she hovered about him in anxious wonder as to how she was to get him on to the settle, where he could lie more comfortably than on the floor.

“I am all right here, or should be if I could have some more broth,” he said, with a wistful look at the empty cup in Nell’s hand.

But she shook her head with a decided air. “To over-feed starved things is to kill them outright, so if you want to get better you must just trust yourself to me.”

“Sorry to give you so much trouble,” he murmured weakly.

“Oh, tending sick things isn’t trouble. I just love nursing, only I haven’t had any one to nurse since father died, except a dog or a horse now and then. This is such a lone house, you see, and there are no people here to want helping. I should be just perfectly happy to have you here to take care of till you are well, only granfer will hate it so, that he won’t be even common pleasant to you, I’m afraid.”

“Never mind; I must risk the unpleasantness, as I can’t get any further. It is beginning to rain, too, so it is a mercy I reached shelter when I did,” Dick said drowsily, for a pleasant feeling of languor was stealing over him.

“Rain? So it does. I must get you on the settle somehow, and then go out and bring in Pip⁠—⁠that is our dog, you know. He’s a big, savage creature at ordinary times, but he got fighting last night, and is so dreadfully mauled that there ain’t much life left in him. Now, put your arms round my neck, and I will pull you up.”

Wrapping her thin muscular arms about the stranger, Nell succeeded in getting him on to his feet, and, supporting him as best she could, got him across the floor, dumping him unceremoniously on to a long low settle, which stood beside the great open fireplace. Then she went out for the dog, for by this time the rain was coming down heavily.