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diff --git a/6357-0.txt b/6357-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0681be2 --- /dev/null +++ b/6357-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13200 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Young Fur-Traders, by R. M. Ballantyne + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Young Fur-Traders + +Author: R. M. Ballantyne + +Release Date: December 1, 2002 [eBook #6357] +[Most recently updated: August 15, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG FUR-TRADERS *** + +[Illustration] + + + + +The Young Fur-Traders + +by R. M. Ballantyne + + +Contents + + +PREFACE + +CHAPTER I +Plunges the reader into the middle of an arctic winter; conveys him +into the heart of the wildernesses of North America; and introduces him +to some of the principal personages of our tale + +CHAPTER II +The old fur-trader endeavours to “fix” his son’s “flint,” and finds the +thing more difficult to do than he expected + +CHAPTER III +The counting-room + +CHAPTER IV. +A wolf-hunt in the prairies; Charley astonishes his father, and breaks +in the “noo’oss” effectually + +CHAPTER V +Peter Mactavish becomes an amateur doctor; Charley promulgates his +views of things in general to Kate; and Kate waxes sagacious + +CHAPTER VI +Spring and the voyageurs + +CHAPTER VII +The store + +CHAPTER VIII +Farewell to Kate; departure of the brigade; Charley becomes a voyageur + +CHAPTER IX +The voyage; the encampment; a surprise + +CHAPTER X +Varieties, vexations, and vicissitudes + +CHAPTER XI +Charley and Harry begin their sporting career without much success; +Whisky-John catching + +CHAPTER XII +The storm + +CHAPTER XIII +The canoe; ascending the rapids; the portage; deer-shooting and life in +the woods + +CHAPTER XIV +The Indian camp; the new outpost; Charley sent on a mission to the +Indians + +CHAPTER XV +The feast; Charley makes his first speech in public; meets with an old +friend; an evening in the grass + +CHAPTER XVI +The return; narrow escape; a murderous attempt, which fails; and a +discovery + +CHAPTER XVII +The scene changes; Bachelors’ Hall; a practical joke and its +consequences; a snow-shoe walk at night in the forest + +CHAPTER XVIII +The walk continued; frozen toes; an encampment in the snow + +CHAPTER XIX +Shows how the accountant and Harry set their traps, and what came of it + +CHAPTER XX +The accountant’s story + +CHAPTER XXI +Ptarmigan-hunting; Hamilton’s shooting powers severely tested; a +snow-storm + +CHAPTER XXII +The winter packet; Harry hears from old friends, and wishes that he was +with them + +CHAPTER XXIII +Changes; Harry and Hamilton find that variety is indeed, charming; the +latter astonishes the former considerably + +CHAPTER XXIV +Hopes and fears; an unexpected meeting; philosophical talk between the +hunter and the parson + +CHAPTER XXV +Good news and romantic scenery; bear-hunting and its results + +CHAPTER XXVI +An unexpected meeting, and an unexpected deer-hunt; arrival at the +outpost; disagreement with the natives; an enemy discovered, and a +murder + +CHAPTER XXVII +The chase; the fight; retribution; low spirits and good news + +CHAPTER XXVIII +Old friends and scenes; coming events cast their shadows before + +CHAPTER XXIX +The first day at home; a gallop in the prairie, and its consequences + +CHAPTER XXX +Love; old Mr. Kennedy puts his foot in it + +CHAPTER XXXI +The course of true love, curiously enough, runs smooth for once; and +the curtain falls + + + + +PREFACE. + + +In writing this book my desire has been to draw an exact copy of the +picture which is indelibly stamped on my own memory. I have carefully +avoided exaggeration in everything of importance. All the chief, and +most of the minor incidents are facts. In regard to unimportant +matters, I have taken the liberty of a novelist—not to colour too +highly, or to invent improbabilities, but—to transpose time, place, and +circumstance at pleasure; while, at the same time, I have endeavoured +to convey to the reader’s mind a truthful impression of the _general +effect_—to use a painter’s language—of the life and country of the Fur +Trader. + +EDINBURGH, 1856. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Plunges the reader into the middle of an Arctic winter; conveys him +into the heart of the wildernesses of North America; and introduces him +to some of the principal personages of our tale. + + +Snowflakes and sunbeams, heat and cold, winter and summer, alternated +with their wonted regularity for fifteen years in the wild regions of +the Far North. During this space of time the hero of our tale sprouted +from babyhood to boyhood, passed through the usual amount of accidents, +ailments, and vicissitudes incidental to those periods of life, and +finally entered upon that ambiguous condition that precedes early +manhood. + +It was a clear, cold winter’s day. The sunbeams of summer were long +past, and snowflakes had fallen thickly on the banks of Red River. +Charley sat on a lump of blue ice, his head drooping and his eyes bent +on the snow at his feet with an expression of deep disconsolation. + +Kate reclined at Charley’s side, looking wistfully up in his expressive +face, as if to read the thoughts that were chasing each other through +his mind, like the ever-varying clouds that floated in the winter sky +above. It was quite evident to the most careless observer that, +whatever might be the usual temperaments of the boy and girl, their +present state of mind was not joyous, but on the contrary, very sad. + +“It won’t do, sister Kate,” said Charley. “I’ve tried him over and over +again—I’ve implored, begged, and entreated him to let me go; but he +won’t, and I’m determined to run away, so there’s an end of it!” + +As Charley gave utterance to this unalterable resolution, he rose from +the bit of blue ice, and taking Kate by the hand, led her over the +frozen river, climbed up the bank on the opposite side—an operation of +some difficulty, owing to the snow, which had been drifted so deeply +during a late storm that the usual track was almost obliterated—and +turning into a path that lost itself among the willows, they speedily +disappeared. + +As it is possible our reader may desire to know who Charley and Kate +are, and the part of the world in which they dwell, we will interrupt +the thread of our narrative to explain. + +In the very centre of the great continent of North America, far removed +from the abodes of civilised men, and about twenty miles to the south +of Lake Winnipeg, exists a colony composed of Indians, Scotsmen, and +French-Canadians, which is known by the name of Red River Settlement. +Red River differs from most colonies in more respects than one—the +chief differences being, that whereas other colonies cluster on the +sea-coast, this one lies many hundreds of miles in the interior of the +country, and is surrounded by a wilderness; and while other colonies, +acting on the Golden Rule, export their produce in return for goods +imported, this of Red River imports a large quantity, and exports +nothing, or next to nothing. Not but that it _might_ export, if it only +had an outlet or a market; but being eight hundred miles removed from +the sea, and five hundred miles from the nearest market, with a series +of rivers, lakes, rapids, and cataracts separating from the one, and a +wide sweep of treeless prairie dividing from the other, the settlers +have long since come to the conclusion that they were born to consume +their own produce, and so regulate the extent of their farming +operations by the strength of their appetites. Of course, there are +many of the necessaries, or at least the luxuries, of life which the +colonists cannot grow—such as tea, coffee, sugar, coats, trousers, and +shirts—and which, consequently, they procure from England, by means of +the Hudson’s Bay Fur Company’s ships, which sail once a year from +Gravesend, laden with supplies for the trade carried on with the +Indians. And the bales containing these articles are conveyed in boats +up the rivers, carried past the waterfalls and rapids overland on the +shoulders of stalwart voyageurs, and finally landed at Red River, after +a rough trip of many weeks’ duration. The colony was founded in 1811, +by the Earl of Selkirk, previously to which it had been a trading-post +of the Fur Company. At the time of which we write, it contained about +five thousand souls, and extended upwards of fifty miles along the Red +and Assiniboine rivers, which streams supplied the settlers with a +variety of excellent fish. The banks were clothed with fine trees; and +immediately behind the settlement lay the great prairies, which +extended in undulating waves—almost entirely devoid of shrub or tree—to +the base of the Rocky Mountains. + +Although far removed from the civilised world, and containing within +its precincts much that is savage and very little that is refined, Red +River is quite a populous paradise, as compared with the desolate, +solitary establishments of the Hudson’s Bay Fur Company. These lonely +dwellings of the trader are scattered far and wide over the whole +continent—north, south, east, and west. Their population generally +amounts to eight or ten men—seldom to thirty. They are planted in the +thick of an uninhabited desert—their next neighbours being from two to +five hundred miles off—their occasional visitors, bands of wandering +Indians—and the sole object of their existence being to trade the furry +hides of foxes, martens, beavers, badgers, bears, buffaloes, and +wolves. It will not, then, be deemed a matter of wonder that the +gentlemen who have charge of these establishments, and who, perchance, +may have spent ten or twenty years in them, should look upon the colony +of Red River as a species of Elysium, a sort of haven of rest, in which +they may lay their weary heads, and spend the remainder of their days +in peaceful felicity, free from the cares of a residence among wild +beasts and wild men. Many of the retiring traders prefer casting their +lot in Canada; but not a few of them _smoke_ out the remainder of their +existence in this colony—especially those who, having left home as boys +fifty or sixty years before, cannot reasonably expect to find the +friends of their childhood where they left them, and cannot hope to +remodel tastes and habits long nurtured in the backwoods so as to +relish the manners and customs of civilised society. + +Such an one was old Frank Kennedy, who, sixty years before the date of +our story, ran away from school in Scotland; got a severe thrashing +from his father for so doing; and having no mother in whose +sympathising bosom he could weep out his sorrow, ran away from home, +went to sea, ran away from his ship while she lay at anchor in the +harbour of New York, and after leading a wandering, unsettled life for +several years, during which he had been alternately a clerk, a +day-labourer, a store-keeper and a village schoolmaster, he wound up by +entering the service of the Hudson’s Bay Company, in which he obtained +an insight into savage life, a comfortable fortune, besides a +half-breed wife and a large family. + +Being a man of great energy and courage, and moreover possessed of a +large, powerful frame, he was sent to one of the most distant posts on +the Mackenzie River, as being admirably suited for the display of his +powers both mental and physical. Here the small-pox broke out among the +natives, and besides carrying off hundreds of these poor creatures, +robbed Mr. Kennedy of all his children save two, Charles and Kate, whom +we have already introduced to the reader. + +About the same time the council which is annually held at Red River in +spring for the purpose of arranging the affairs of the country for the +ensuing year thought proper to appoint Mr. Kennedy to a still more +outlandish part of the country—as near, in fact, to the North Pole as +it was possible for mortal man to live—and sent him an order to proceed +to his destination without loss of time. On receiving this +communication, Mr. Kennedy upset his chair, stamped his foot, ground +his teeth, and vowed, in the hearing of his wife and children, that +sooner than obey the mandate he would see the governors and council of +Rupert’s Land hanged, quartered, and boiled down into tallow! +Ebullitions of this kind were peculiar to Frank Kennedy, and meant +_nothing_. They were simply the safety-valves to his superabundant ire, +and, like safety-valves in general, made much noise but did no damage. +It was well, however, on such occasions to keep out of the old +fur-trader’s way; for he had an irresistible propensity to hit out at +whatever stood before him, especially if the object stood on a level +with his own eyes and wore whiskers. On second thoughts, however, he +sat down before his writing-table, took a sheet of blue ruled foolscap +paper, seized a quill which he had mended six months previously, at a +time when he happened to be in high good-humour, and wrote as follows:— + +To the Governor and Council of Rupert’s Land, +Red River Settlement. + + +Fort Paskisegun +_June_ 15, 18—. + + +GENTLEMEN,—I have the honour to acknowledge receipt of your favour of +26th April last, appointing me to the charge of Peel’s River, and +directing me to strike out new channels of trade in that quarter. In +reply, I have to state that I shall have the honour to fulfil your +instructions by taking my departure in a light canoe as soon as +possible. At the same time I beg humbly to submit that the state of my +health is such as to render it expedient for me to retire from the +service, and I herewith beg to hand in my resignation. I shall hope to +be relieved early next spring.—I have the honour to be, gentlemen, your +most obedient, humble servant, + +F. KENNEDY. + + +“There!” exclaimed the old gentleman, in a tone that would lead one to +suppose he had signed the death-warrant, and so had irrevocably fixed +the certain destruction, of the entire council—“there!” said he, rising +from his chair, and sticking the quill into the ink-bottle with a _dab_ +that split it up to the feather, and so rendered it _hors de combat_ +for all time coming. + +To this letter the council gave a short reply, accepting his +resignation, and appointing a successor. On the following spring old +Mr. Kennedy embarked his wife and children in a bark canoe, and in +process of time landed them safely in Red River Settlement. Here he +purchased a house with six acres of land, in which he planted a variety +of useful vegetables, and built a summer-house after the fashion of a +conservatory, where he was wont to solace himself for hours together +with a pipe, or rather with dozens of pipes, of Canadian twist tobacco. + +After this he put his two children to school. The settlement was at +this time fortunate in having a most excellent academy, which was +conducted by a very estimable man. Charles and Kate Kennedy, being +obedient and clever, made rapid progress under his judicious +management, and the only fault that he had to find with the young +people was, that Kate was a little too quiet and fond of books, while +Charley was a little too riotous and fond of fun. + +When Charles arrived at the age of fifteen and Kate attained to +fourteen years, old Mr. Kennedy went into his conservatory, locked the +door, sat down on an easy chair, filled a long clay pipe with his +beloved tobacco, smoked vigorously for ten minutes, and fell fast +asleep. In this condition he remained until the pipe fell from his lips +and broke in fragments on the floor. He then rose, filled another pipe, +and sat down to meditate on the subject that had brought him to his +smoking apartment. “There’s my wife,” said he, looking at the bowl of +his pipe, as if he were addressing himself to it, “she’s getting too +old to be looking after everything herself (_puff_), and Kate’s getting +too old to be humbugging any longer with books: besides, she ought to +be at home learning to keep house, and help her mother, and cut the +baccy (_puff_), and that young scamp Charley should be entering the +service (_puff_). He’s clever enough now to trade beaver and bears from +the red-skins; besides, he’s (_puff_) a young rascal, and I’ll be bound +does nothing but lead the other boys into (_puff_) mischief, although, +to be sure, the master _does_ say he’s the cleverest fellow in the +school; but he must be reined up a bit now. I’ll clap on a double curb +and martingale. I’ll get him a situation in the counting-room at the +fort (_puff_), where he’ll have his nose held tight to the grindstone. +Yes, I’ll fix both their flints to-morrow;” and old Mr. Kennedy gave +vent to another puff so thick and long that it seemed as if all the +previous puffs had concealed themselves up to this moment within his +capacious chest, and rushed out at last in one thick and long-continued +stream. + +By “fixing their flints” Mr. Kennedy meant to express the fact that he +intended to place his children in an entirely new sphere of action, and +with a view to this he ordered out his horse and cariole[1] on the +following morning, went up to the school, which was about ten miles +distant from his abode, and brought his children home with him the same +evening. Kate was now formally installed as housekeeper and +tobacco-cutter; while Charley was told that his future destiny was to +wield the quill in the service of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and that he +might take a week to think over it. Quiet, warm-hearted, affectionate +Kate was overjoyed at the thought of being a help and comfort to her +old father and mother; but reckless, joyous, good-humoured, +hare-brained Charley was cast into the depths of despair at the idea of +spending the livelong day, and day after day, for years it might be, on +the top of a long-legged stool. In fact, poor Charley said that he +“would rather become a buffalo than do it.” Now this was very wrong of +Charley, for, of course, he didn’t _mean_ it. Indeed, it is too much a +habit among little boys, ay, and among grown-up people, too, to say +what they don’t mean, as no doubt you are aware, dear reader, if you +possess half the self-knowledge we give you credit for; and we cannot +too strongly remonstrate with ourself and others against the +practice—leading, as it does, to all sorts of absurd exaggerations, +such as gravely asserting that we are “broiling hot” when we are simply +“rather warm,” or more than “half dead” with fatigue when we are merely +“very tired.” However, Charley _said_ that he would rather be “a +buffalo than do it,” and so we feel bound in honour to record the fact. + + [1] A sort of sleigh. + + +Charley and Kate were warmly attached to each other. Moreover, they had +been, ever since they could walk, in the habit of mingling their little +joys and sorrows in each other’s bosoms; and although, as years flew +past, they gradually ceased to sob in each other’s arms at every little +mishap, they did not cease to interchange their inmost thoughts, and to +mingle their tears when occasion called them forth. They knew the +power, the inexpressible sweetness, of sympathy. They understood +experimentally the comfort and joy that flow from obedience to that +blessed commandment to “rejoice with those that do rejoice, and weep +with those that weep.” It was natural, therefore, that on Mr. Kennedy +announcing his decrees, Charley and Kate should hasten to some retired +spot where they could commune in solitude; the effect of which +communing was to reduce them to a somewhat calmer and rather happy +state of mind. Charley’s sorrow was blunted by sympathy with Kate’s +joy, and Kate’s joy was subdued by sympathy with Charley’s sorrow; so +that, after the first effervescing burst, they settled down into a calm +and comfortable state of flatness, with very red eyes and exceedingly +pensive minds. We must, however, do Charley the justice to say that the +red eyes applied only to Kate; for although a tear or two could without +much coaxing be induced to hop over his sun-burned cheek, he had got +beyond that period of life when boys are addicted to (we must give the +word, though not pretty, because it is eminently expressive) +_blubbering_. + +A week later found Charley and his sister seated on the lump of blue +ice where they were first introduced to the reader, and where Charley +announced his unalterable resolve to run away, following it up with the +statement that _that_ was “the end of it.” He was quite mistaken, +however, for that was by no means the end of it. In fact it was only +the beginning of it, as we shall see hereafter. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +The old fur-trader endeavours to “fix” his son’s “flint,” and finds the +thing more difficult to do than he expected. + + +Near the centre of the colony of Red River, the stream from which the +settlement derives its name is joined by another, called the +Assiniboine. About five or six hundred yards from the point where this +union takes place, and on the banks of the latter stream, stands the +Hudson’s Bay Company’s trading-post, Fort Garry. It is a massive square +building of stone. Four high and thick walls enclose a space of ground +on which are built six or eight wooden houses, some of which are used +as dwellings for the servants of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and others +as stores, wherein are contained the furs, the provisions which are +sent annually to various parts of the country, and the goods (such as +cloth, guns, powder and shot, blankets, twine, axes, knives, etc., +etc.) with which the fur-trade is carried on. Although Red River is a +peaceful colony, and not at all likely to be assaulted by the poor +Indians, it was, nevertheless, deemed prudent by the traders to make +some show of power; and so at the corners of the fort four round +bastions of a very imposing appearance were built, from the embrasures +of which several large black-muzzled guns protruded. No one ever +conceived the idea of firing these engines of war; and, indeed, it is +highly probable that such an attempt would have been attended with +consequences much more dreadful to those _behind_ than to those who +might chance to be in front of the guns. Nevertheless they were +imposing, and harmonised well with the flag-staff, which was the only +other military symptom about the place. This latter was used on +particular occasions, such as the arrival or departure of a brigade of +boats, for the purpose of displaying the folds of a red flag on which +were the letters H. B. C. + +The fort stood, as we have said, on the banks of the Assiniboine River, +on the opposite side of which the land was somewhat wooded, though not +heavily, with oak, maple, poplar, aspens, and willows; while at the +back of the fort the great prairie rolled out like a green sea to the +horizon, and far beyond that again to the base of the Rocky mountains. +The plains at this time, however, were a sheet of unbroken snow, and +the river a mass of solid ice. + +It was noon on the day following that on which our friend Charley had +threatened rebellion, when a tall elderly man might have been seen +standing at the back gate of Fort Garry, gazing wistfully out into the +prairie in the direction of the lower part of the settlement. He was +watching a small speck which moved rapidly over the snow in the +direction of the fort. + +“It’s very like our friend Frank Kennedy,” said he to himself (at least +we presume so, for there was no one else within earshot to whom he +could have said it, except the door-post, which every one knows is +proverbially a deaf subject). “No man in the settlement drives so +furiously. I shouldn’t wonder if he ran against the corner of the new +fence now. Ha! just so—there he goes!” + +And truly the reckless driver did “go” just at that moment. He came up +to the corner of the new fence, where the road took a rather abrupt +turn, in a style that insured a capsize. In another second the spirited +horse turned sharp round, the sleigh turned sharp over, and the +occupant was pitched out at full length, while a black object, that +might have been mistaken for his hat, rose from his side like a rocket, +and, flying over him, landed on the snow several yards beyond. A faint +shout was heard to float on the breeze as this catastrophe occurred, +and the driver was seen to jump up and readjust himself in the cariole; +while the other black object proved itself not to be a hat, by getting +hastily up on a pair of legs, and scrambling back to the seat from +which it had been so unceremoniously ejected. + +In a few minutes more the cheerful tinkling of the merry sleigh-bells +was heard, and Frank Kennedy, accompanied by his hopeful son Charles, +dashed up to the gate, and pulled up with a jerk. + +“Ha! Grant, my fine fellow, how are you?” exclaimed Mr. Kennedy, +senior, as he disengaged himself from the heavy folds of the buffalo +robe and shook the snow from his greatcoat. “Why on earth, man, don’t +you put up a sign-post and a board to warn travellers that you’ve been +running out new fences and changing the road, eh?” + +“Why, my good friend,” said Mr. Grant, smiling, “the fence and the road +are of themselves pretty conclusive proof to most men that the road is +changed; and, besides, we don’t often have people driving round corners +at full gallop; but—” + +“Hollo! Charley, you rascal,” interrupted Mr. Kennedy—“here, take the +mare to the stable, and don’t drive her too fast. Mind, now, no going +off upon the wrong road for the sake of a drive, you understand.” + +“All right, father,” exclaimed the boy, while a bright smile lit up his +features and displayed two rows of white teeth: “I’ll be particularly +careful,” and he sprang into the light vehicle, seized the reins, and +with a sharp crack of the whip dashed down the road at a hard gallop. + +“He’s a fine fellow that son of yours,” said Mr. Grant, “and will make +a first-rate fur-trader.” + +“Pur-trader!” exclaimed Mr. Kennedy. “Just look at him! I’ll be shot if +he isn’t thrashing the mare as if she were made of leather.” The old +man’s ire was rising rapidly as he heard the whip crack every now and +then, and saw the mare bound madly over the snow. “And see!” he +continued, “I declare he _has_ taken the wrong turn after all.” + +“True,” said Mr. Grant: “he’ll never reach the stable by that road; +he’s much more likely to visit the White-horse Plains. But come, +friend, it’s of no use fretting, Charley will soon tire of his ride; so +come with me to my room and have a pipe before dinner.” + +Old Mr. Kennedy gave a short groan of despair, shook his fist at the +form of his retreating son, and accompanied his friend to the house. + +It must not be supposed that Frank Kennedy was very deeply offended +with his son, although he did shower on him a considerable amount of +abuse. On the contrary, he loved him very much. But it was the old +man’s nature to give way to little bursts of passion on almost every +occasion in which his feelings were at all excited. These bursts, +however, were like the little puffs that ripple the surface of the sea +on a calm summer’s day. They were over in a second, and left his +good-humoured, rough, candid countenance in unruffled serenity. Charley +knew this well, and loved his father tenderly, so that his conscience +frequently smote him for raising his anger so often; and he over and +over again promised his sister Kate to do his best to refrain from +doing anything that was likely to annoy the old man in future. But, +alas! Charley’s resolves, like those of many other boys, were soon +forgotten, and his father’s equanimity was upset generally two or three +times a day; but after the gust was over, the fur-trader would kiss his +son, call him a “rascal,” and send him off to fill and fetch his pipe. + +Mr. Grant, who was in charge of Fort Garry, led the way to his smoking +apartment, where the two were soon seated in front of a roaring +log-fire, emulating each other in the manufacture of smoke. + +“Well, Kennedy,” said Mr. Grant, throwing himself back in his chair, +elevating his chin, and emitting a long thin stream of white vapour +from his lips, through which he gazed at his friend complacently—“well, +Kennedy, to what fortunate chance am I indebted for this visit? It is +not often that we have the pleasure of seeing you here.” + +Mr. Kennedy created two large volumes of smoke, which, by means of a +vigorous puff, he sent rolling over towards his friend, and said, +“Charley.” + +“And what of Charley?” said Mr. Grant with a smile, for he was well +aware of the boy’s propensity to fun, and of the father’s desire to +curb it. + +“The fact is,” replied Kennedy, “that Charley must be broke. He’s the +wildest colt I ever had to tame, but I’ll do it—I will—that’s a fact.” + +If Charley’s subjugation had depended on the rapidity with which the +little white clouds proceeded from his sire’s mouth, there is no doubt +that it would have been a “fact” in a very short time, for they rushed +from him with the violence of a high wind. Long habit had made the old +trader and his pipe not only inseparable companions, but part and +parcel of each other—so intimately connected that a change in the one +was sure to produce a sympathetic change in the other. In the present +instance, the little clouds rapidly increased in size and number as the +old gentleman thought on the obstinacy of his “colt.” + +“Yes,” he continued, after a moment’s silence, “I’ve made up my mind to +tame him, and I want _you_, Mr. Grant, to help me.” + +Mr. Grant looked as if he would rather not undertake to lend his aid in +a work that was evidently difficult; but being a good-natured man, he +said, “And how, friend, can I assist in the operation?” + +“Well, you see, Charley’s a good fellow at bottom, and a clever fellow +too—at least so says the schoolmaster; though I must confess, that so +far as my experience goes, he’s only clever at finding out excuses for +not doing what I want him to. But still I’m told he’s clever, and can +use his pen well; and I know for certain that he can use his tongue +well. So I want to get him into the service, and have him placed in a +situation where he shall have to stick to his desk all day. In fact, I +want to have him broken into work; for you’ve no notion, sir, how that +boy talks about bears and buffaloes and badgers, and life in the woods +among the Indians. I do believe,” continued the old gentleman, waxing +warm, “that he would willingly go into the woods to-morrow, if I would +let him, and never show his nose in the settlement again. He’s quite +incorrigible. But I’ll tame him yet—I will!” + +Mr. Kennedy followed this up with an indignant grunt, and a puff of +smoke, so thick, and propelled with such vigour, that it rolled and +curled in fantastic evolutions towards the ceiling, as if it were +unable to control itself with delight at the absolute certainty of +Charley being tamed at last. + +Mr. Grant, however, shook his head, and remained for five minutes in +profound silence, during which time the two friends puffed in concert, +until they began to grow quite indistinct and ghost-like in the thick +atmosphere. + +At last he broke silence. + +“My opinion is that you’re wrong, Mr. Kennedy. No doubt you know the +disposition of your son better than I do; but even judging of it from +what you have said, I’m quite sure that a sedentary life will ruin +him.” + +“Ruin him! Humbug!” said Kennedy, who never failed to express his +opinion at the shortest notice and in the plainest language—a fact so +well known by his friends that they had got into the habit of taking no +notice of it. “Humbug!” he repeated, “perfect humbug! You don’t mean to +tell me that the way to break him in is to let him run loose and wild +whenever and wherever he pleases?” + +“By no means. But you may rest assured that tying him down won’t do +it.” + +“Nonsense!” said Mr. Kennedy testily; “don’t tell me. Have I not broken +in young colts by the score? and don’t I know that the way to fix their +flints is to clap on a good strong curb?” + +“If you had travelled farther south, friend,” replied Mr. Grant, “you +would have seen the Spaniards of Mexico break in their wild horses in a +very different way; for after catching one with a lasso, a fellow gets +on his back, and gives it the rein and the whip—ay, and the spur too; +and before that race is over, there is no need for a curb.” + +“What!” exclaimed Kennedy, “and do you mean to argue from that, that I +should let Charley run—and _help_ him too? Send him off to the woods +with gun and blanket, canoe and tent, all complete?” The old gentleman +puffed a furious puff, and broke into a loud sarcastic laugh. + +“No, no,” interrupted Mr. Grant; “I don’t exactly mean that, but I +think that you might give him his way for a year or so. He’s a fine, +active, generous fellow; and after the novelty wore off, he would be in +a much better frame of mind to listen to your proposals. Besides” (and +Mr. Grant smiled expressively), “Charley is somewhat like his father. +He has got a will of his own; and if you do not give him his way, I +very much fear that he’ll—” + +“What?” inquired Mr. Kennedy abruptly. + +“Take it,” said Mr. Grant. + +The puff that burst from Mr. Kennedy’s lips on hearing this would have +done credit to a thirty-six pounder. + +“Take it!” said he; “he’d _better_ not.” + +The latter part of this speech was not in itself of a nature calculated +to convey much; but the tone of the old trader’s voice, the contraction +of his eyebrows, and above all the overwhelming flow of cloudlets that +followed, imparted to it a significance that induced the belief that +Charley’s taking his own way would be productive of more terrific +consequences than it was in the power of the most highly imaginative +man to conceive. + +“There’s his sister Kate, now,” continued the old gentleman; “she’s as +gentle and biddable as a lamb. I’ve only to say a word, and she’s off +like a shot to do my bidding; and she does it with such a sweet smile +too.” There was a touch of pathos in the old trader’s voice as he said +this. He was a man of strong feeling, and as impulsive in his +tenderness as in his wrath. “But that rascal Charley,” he continued, +“is quite different. He’s obstinate as a mule. To be sure, he has a +good temper; and I must say for him he never goes into the sulks, which +is a comfort, for of all things in the world sulking is the most +childish and contemptible. He _generally_ does what I bid him, too. But +he’s _always_ getting into scrapes of one kind or other. And during the +last week, notwithstanding all I can say to him, he won’t admit that +the best thing for him is to get a place in your counting-room, with +the prospect of rapid promotion in the service. Very odd. I can’t +understand it at all;” and Mr. Kennedy heaved a deep sigh. + +“Did you ever explain to him the prospects that he would have in the +situation you propose for him?” inquired Mr. Grant. + +“Can’t say I ever did.” + +“Did you ever point out the probable end of a life spent in the woods?” + +“No.” + +“Nor suggest to him that the appointment to the office here would only +be temporary, and to see how he got on in it?” + +“Certainly not.” + +“Then, my dear sir, I’m not surprised that Charley rebels. You have +left him to suppose that, once placed at the desk here, he is a +prisoner for life. But see, there he is,” said Mr. Grant, pointing as +he spoke towards the subject of their conversation, who was passing the +window at the moment; “let me call him, and I feel certain that he will +listen to reason in a few minutes.” + +“Humph!” ejaculated Mr. Kennedy, “you may try.” + +In another minute Charley had been summoned, and was seated, cap in +hand, near the door. + +“Charley, my boy,” began Mr. Grant, standing with his back to the fire, +his feet pretty wide apart, and his coat-tails under his arms—“Charley, +my boy, your father has just been speaking of you. He is very anxious +that you should enter the service of the Hudson’s Bay Company; and as +you are a clever boy and a good penman, we think that you would be +likely to get on if placed for a year or so in our office here. I need +scarcely point out to you, my boy, that in such a position you would be +sure to obtain more rapid promotion than if you were placed in one of +the distant outposts, where you would have very little to do, and +perhaps little to eat, and no one to converse with except one or two +men. Of course, we would merely place you here on trial, to see how you +suited us; and if you prove steady and diligent, there is no saying how +fast you might get on. Why, you might even come to fill my place in +course of time. Come now, Charley, what think you of it?” + +Charley’s eyes had been cast on the ground while Mr. Grant was +speaking. He now raised them, looked at his father, then at his +interrogator, and said,— + +“It is very kind of you both to be so anxious about my prospects. I +thank you, indeed, very much; but I—a—” + +“Don’t like the desk?” said his father, in an angry tone. “Is that it, +eh?” + +Charley made no reply, but cast down his eyes again and smiled (Charley +had a sweet smile, a peculiarly sweet, candid smile), as if he meant to +say that his father had hit the nail quite on the top of the head that +time, and no mistake. + +“But consider,” resumed Mr. Grant, “although you might probably be +pleased with an outpost life at first, you would be sure to grow weary +of it after the novelty wore off, and then you would wish with all your +heart to be back here again. Believe me, child, a trader’s life is a +very hard and not often a very satisfactory one—” + +“Ay,” broke in the father, desirous, if possible, to help the argument, +“and you’ll find it a desperately wild, unsettled, roving sort of life, +too, let me tell you! full of dangers both from wild beast and wild +men—” + +“Hush!” interrupted Mr. Grant, observing that the boy’s eyes kindled +when his father spoke of a wild, roving life, and wild beasts.—“Your +father does not mean that life at an outpost is wild and _interesting_ +or _exciting_. He merely means that—a—it—” + +Mr. Grant could not very well explain what it was that Mr. Kennedy +meant if he did not mean that, so he turned to him for help. + +“Exactly so,” said that gentleman, taking a strong pull at the pipe for +inspiration. “It’s no ways interesting or exciting at all. It’s slow, +dull, and flat; a miserable sort of Robinson Crusoe life, with red +Indians and starvation constantly staring you in the face—” + +“Besides,” said Mr. Grant, again interrupting the somewhat unfortunate +efforts of his friend, who seemed to have a happy facility in sending a +brilliant dash of romantic allusion across the dark side of his +picture—“besides, you’ll not have opportunity to amuse yourself, or to +read, as you’ll have no books, and you’ll have to work hard with your +hands oftentimes, like your men—” + +“In fact,” broke in the impatient father, resolved, apparently, to +carry the point with a grand _coup_—“in fact, you’ll have to rough it, +as I did, when I went up the Mackenzie River district, where I was sent +to establish a new post, and had to travel for weeks and weeks through +a wild country, where none of us had ever been before; where we shot +our own meat, caught our own fish, and built our own house—and were +very near being murdered by the Indians; though, to be sure, afterwards +they became the most civil fellows in the country, and brought us +plenty of skins. Ay, lad, you’ll repent of your obstinacy when you come +to have to hunt your own dinner, as I’ve done many a day up the +Saskatchewan, where I’ve had to fight with red-skins and grizzly bears +and to chase the buffaloes over miles and miles of prairie on +rough-going nags till my bones ached and I scarce knew whether I sat +on—” + +“Oh,” exclaimed Charley, starting to his feet, while his eyes flashed +and his chest heaved with emotion, “that’s the place for me, +father!—Do, please, Mr. Grant send me there, and I’ll work for you with +all my might!” + +Frank Kennedy was not a man to stand this unexpected miscarriage of his +eloquence with equanimity. His first action was to throw his pipe at +the head of his enthusiastic boy; without worse effect, however, than +smashing it to atoms on the opposite wall. He then started up and +rushed towards his son, who, being near the door, retreated +precipitately and vanished. + +“So,” said Mr. Grant, not very sure whether to laugh or be angry at the +result of their united efforts, “you’ve settled the question now, at +all events.” + +Frank Kennedy said nothing, but filled another pipe, sat doggedly down +in front of the fire, and speedily enveloped himself, and his friend, +and all that the room contained, in thick, impenetrable clouds of +smoke. + +Meanwhile his worthy son rushed off in a state of great glee. He had +often heard the voyageurs of Red River dilate on the delights of +roughing it in the woods, and his heart had bounded as they spoke of +dangers encountered and overcome among the rapids of the Far North, or +with the bears and bison-bulls of the prairie, but never till now had +he heard his father corroborate their testimony by a recital of his own +actual experience; and although the old gentleman’s intention was +undoubtedly to damp the boy’s spirit, his eloquence had exactly the +opposite effect—so that it was with a hop and a shout that he burst +into the counting-room, with the occupants of which Charley was a +special favourite. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +The Counting-room. + + +Everyone knows the general appearance of a counting-room. There are one +or two peculiar features about such apartments that are quite +unmistakable and very characteristic; and the counting-room at Fort +Garry, although many hundred miles distant from other specimens of its +race, and, from the peculiar circumstances of its position, not +therefore likely to bear them much resemblance, possessed one or two +features of similarity, in the shape of two large desks and several +very tall stools, besides sundry ink-bottles, rulers, books, and sheets +of blotting-paper. But there were other implements there, savouring +strongly of the backwoods and savage life, which merit more particular +notice. + +The room itself was small, and lighted by two little windows, which +opened into the courtyard. The entire apartment was made of wood. The +floor was of unpainted fir boards. The walls were of the same material, +painted blue from the floor upwards to about three feet, where the blue +was unceremoniously stopped short by a stripe of bright red, above +which the somewhat fanciful decorator had laid on a coat of pale +yellow; and the ceiling, by way of variety, was of a deep ochre. As the +occupants of Red River office were, however, addicted to the use of +tobacco and tallow candles, the original colour of the ceiling had +vanished entirely, and that of the walls had considerably changed. + +There were three doors in the room (besides the door of entrance), each +opening into another apartment, where the three clerks were wont to +court the favour of Morpheus after the labours of the day. No carpets +graced the floors of any of these rooms, and with the exception of the +paint aforementioned, no ornament whatever broke the pleasing +uniformity of the scene. This was compensated, however, to some extent +by several scarlet sashes, bright-coloured shot-belts, and gay portions +of winter costume peculiar to the country, which depended from sundry +nails in the bedroom walls; and as the three doors always stood open, +these objects, together with one or two fowling-pieces and +canoe-paddles, formed quite a brilliant and highly suggestive +background to the otherwise sombre picture. A large open fireplace +stood in one corner of the room, devoid of a grate, and so constructed +that large logs of wood might be piled up on end to any extent. And +really the fires made in this manner, and in this individual fireplace, +were exquisite beyond description. A wood-fire is a particularly +cheerful thing. Those who have never seen one can form but a faint idea +of its splendour; especially on a sharp winter night in the arctic +regions, where the thermometer falls to forty degrees below zero, +without inducing the inhabitants to suppose that the world has reached +its conclusion. The billets are usually piled up on end, so that the +flames rise and twine round them with a fierce intensity that causes +them to crack and sputter cheerfully, sending innumerable sparks of +fire into the room, and throwing out a rich glow of brilliant light +that warms a man even to look at it, and renders candles quite +unnecessary. + +The clerks who inhabited this counting-room were, like itself, +peculiar. There were three—corresponding to the bedrooms. The senior +was a tall, broad-shouldered, muscular man—a Scotchman—very +good-humoured, yet a man whose under lip met the upper with that +peculiar degree of precision that indicated the presence of other +qualities besides that of good-humour. He was book-keeper and +accountant, and managed the affairs intrusted to his care with the same +dogged perseverance with which he would have led an expedition of +discovery to the North Pole. He was thirty or thereabouts. + +The second was a small man—also a Scotchman. It is curious to note how +numerous Scotchmen are in the wilds of North America. This specimen was +diminutive and sharp. Moreover, he played the flute—an accomplishment +of which he was so proud that he ordered out from England a flute of +ebony, so elaborately enriched with silver keys that one’s fingers +ached to behold it. This beautiful instrument, like most other +instruments of a delicate nature, found the climate too much for its +constitution, and, soon after the winter began, split from top to +bottom. Peter Mactavish, however, was a genius by nature, and a +mechanical genius by tendency; so that, instead of giving way to +despair, he laboriously bound the flute together with waxed thread, +which, although it could not restore it to its pristine elegance, +enabled him to play with great effect sundry doleful airs, whose +influence, when performed at night, usually sent his companions to +sleep, or, failing this, drove them to distraction. + +The third inhabitant of the office was a ruddy, smooth-chinned youth of +about fourteen, who had left home seven months before, in the hope of +gratifying a desire to lead a wild life, which he had entertained ever +since he read “Jack the Giant Killer,” and found himself most +unexpectedly fastened, during the greater part of each day, to a stool. +His name was Harry Somerville, and a fine, cheerful little fellow he +was, full of spirits, and curiously addicted to poking and arranging +the fire at least every ten minutes—a propensity which tested the +forbearance of the senior clerk rather severely, and would have +surprised any one not aware of poor Harry’s incurable antipathy to the +desk, and the yearning desire with which he longed for physical action. + +Harry was busily engaged with the refractory fire when Charley, as +stated at the conclusion of the last chapter, burst into the room. + +“Hollo!” he exclaimed, suspending his operations for a moment, “what’s +up?” + +“Nothing,” said Charley, “but father’s temper, that’s all. He gave me a +splendid description of his life in the woods, and then threw his pipe +at me because I admired it too much.” + +“Ho!” exclaimed Harry, making a vigorous thrust at the fire, “then +you’ve no chance now.” + +“No chance! what do you mean?” + +“Only that we are to have a wolf-hunt in the plains to-morrow; and if +you’ve aggravated your father, he’ll be taking you home to-night, +that’s all.” + +“Oh! no fear of that,” said Charley, with a look that seemed to imply +that there was very great fear of “that”—much more, in fact, than he +was willing to admit even to himself. “My dear old father never keeps +his anger long. I’m sure that he’ll be all right again in +half-an-hour.” + +“Hope so, but doubt it I do,” said Harry, making another deadly poke at +the fire, and returning, with a deep sigh, to his stool. + +“Would you like to go with us, Charley?” said the senior clerk, laying +down his pen and turning round on his chair (the senior clerk never sat +on a stool) with a benign smile. + +“Oh, very, very much indeed,” cried Charley; “but even should father +agree to stay all night at the fort, I have no horse, and I’m sure he +would not let me have the mare after what I did to-day.” + +“Do you think he’s not open to persuasion?” said the senior clerk. + +“No, I’m sure he’s not.” + +“Well, well, it don’t much signify; perhaps we can mount you.” +(Charley’s face brightened.) “Go,” he continued, addressing Harry +Somerville—“go, tell Tom Whyte I wish to speak to him.” + +Harry sprang from his stool with a suddenness and vigour that might +have justified the belief that he had been fixed to it by means of a +powerful spring, which had been set free with a sharp recoil, and shot +him out at the door, for he disappeared in a trice. In a few minutes he +returned, followed by the groom Tom Whyte. + +“Tom,” said the senior clerk, “do you think we could manage to mount +Charley to-morrow?” + +“Why, sir, I don’t think as how we could. There ain’t an ’oss in the +stable except them wot’s required and them wot’s badly.” + +“Couldn’t he have the brown pony?” suggested the senior clerk. + +Tom Whyte was a cockney and an old soldier, and stood so bolt upright +that it seemed quite a marvel how the words ever managed to climb up +the steep ascent of his throat, and turn the corner so as to get out at +his mouth. Perhaps this was the cause of his speaking on all occasions +with great deliberation and slowness. + +“Why, you see, sir,” he replied, “the brown pony’s got cut under the +fetlock of the right hind leg; and I ’ad ’im down to L’Esperance the +smith’s, sir, to look at ’im, sir; and he says to me, says he ‘That +don’t look well, that ’oss don’t,’—and he’s a knowing feller, sir, is +L’Esperance though he _is_ an ’alf-breed—” + +“Never mind what he said, Tom,” interrupted the senior clerk; “is the +pony fit for use? that’s the question.” + +“No, sir, ’e hain’t.” + +“And the black mare, can he not have that?” + +“No, sir; Mr. Grant is to ride ’er to-morrow.” + +“That’s unfortunate,” said the senior clerk.—“I fear, Charley, that +you’ll need to ride behind Harry on his gray pony. It wouldn’t improve +his speed, to be sure, having two on his back; but then he’s so like a +pig in his movements at any rate, I don’t think it would spoil his pace +much.” + +“Could he not try the new horse?” he continued, turning to the groom. + +“The noo ’oss, sir! he might as well try to ride a mad buffalo bull, +sir. He’s quite a young colt, sir, only ’alf broke—kicks like a +windmill, sir, and’s got an ’ead like a steam-engine; ’e couldn’t ’old +’im in no’ow, sir. I ’ad ’im down to the smith ’tother day, sir, an’ +says ’e to me, says ’e, ‘That’s a screamer, that is.’ ‘Yes,’ says I, +‘that his a fact.’ ‘Well,’ says ’e—” + +“Hang the smith!” cried the senior clerk, losing all patience; “can’t +you answer me without so much talk? Is the horse too wild to ride?” + +“Yes, sir, ’e is” said the groom, with a look of slightly offended +dignity, and drawing himself up—if we may use such an expression to one +who was always drawn up to such an extent that he seemed to be just +balanced on his heels, and required only a gentle push to lay him flat +on his back. + +“Oh, I have it!” cried Peter Mactavish, who had been standing during +the conversation with his back to the fire, and a short pipe in his +mouth: “John Fowler, the miller, has just purchased a new pony. I’m +told it’s an old buffalo-runner, and I’m certain he would lend it to +Charley at once.” + +“The very thing,” said the senior clerk.—“Run, Tom; give the miller my +compliments, and beg the loan of his horse for Charley Kennedy.—I think +he knows you, Charley?” + +The dinner-bell rang as the groom departed, and the clerks prepared for +their mid-day meal. + +The Senior clerk’s order to _“run”_ was a mere form of speech, intended +to indicate that haste was desirable. No man imagined for a moment that +Tom Whyte could, by any possibility, _run_. He hadn’t run since he was +dismissed from the army, twenty years before, for incurable +drunkenness; and most of Tom’s friend’s entertained the belief that if +he ever attempted to run he would crack all over, and go to pieces like +a disentombed Egyptian mummy. Tom therefore walked off to the row of +buildings inhabited by the men, where he sat down on a bench in front +of his bed, and proceeded leisurely to fill his pipe. + +The room in which he sat was a fair specimen of the dwellings devoted +to the _employés_ of the Hudson’s Bay Company throughout the country. +It was large, and low in the roof, built entirely of wood, which was +unpainted; a matter, however, of no consequence, as, from long exposure +to dust and tobacco smoke, the floor, walls, and ceiling had become one +deep, uniform brown. The men’s beds were constructed after the fashion +of berths on board ship, being wooden boxes ranged in tiers round the +room. Several tables and benches were strewn miscellaneously about the +floor, in the centre of which stood a large double iron stove, with the +word _“Carron”_ stamped on it. This served at once for cooking and +warming the place. Numerous guns, axes, and canoe-paddles hung round +the walls or were piled in corners, and the rafters sustained a +miscellaneous mass of materials, the more conspicuous among which were +snow-shoes, dog-sledges, axe-handles, and nets. + +Having filled and lighted his pipe, Tom Whyte thrust his hands into his +deerskin mittens, and sauntered off to perform his errand. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +A wolf-hunt in the prairies—Charley astonishes his father, and breaks +in the “noo ’oss” effectually. + + +During the long winter that reigns in the northern regions of America, +the thermometer ranges, for many months together, from zero down to 20, +30, and 40 degrees _below_ it. In different parts of the country the +intensity of the frost varies a little, but not sufficiently to make +any appreciable change in one’s sensation of cold. At York Fort, on the +shores of Hudson’s Bay, where the winter is eight months long, the +spirit-of-wine (mercury being useless in so cold a climate) sometimes +falls so low as 50 degrees below zero; and away in the regions of Great +Bear Lake it has been known to fall considerably lower than 60 degrees +below zero of Fahrenheit. Cold of such intensity, of course, produces +many curious and interesting effects, which, although scarcely noticed +by the inhabitants, make a strong impression upon the minds of those +who visit the country for the first time. A youth goes out to walk on +one of the first sharp, frosty mornings. His locks are brown and his +face ruddy. In half-an-hour he returns with his face blue, his nose +frost-bitten, and his locks _white_—the latter effect being produced by +his breath congealing on his hair and breast, until both are covered +with hoar-frost. Perhaps he is of a sceptical nature, prejudiced it may +be, in favour of old habits and customs; so that, although told by +those who ought to know that it is absolutely necessary to wear +moccasins in winter, he prefers the leather boots to which he has been +accustomed at home, and goes out with them accordingly In a few minutes +the feet begin to lose sensation. First the toes, as far as feeling +goes, vanish; then the heels depart, and he feels the extraordinary and +peculiar and altogether disagreeable sensation of one who has had his +heels and toes amputated, and is walking about on his insteps. Soon, +however, these also fade away, and the unhappy youth rushes frantically +home on the stumps of his ankle-bones—at least so it appears to him, +and so in reality it would turn out to be if he did not speedily rub +the benumbed appendages into vitality again. + +The whole country during this season is buried in snow, and the +prairies of Red River present the appearance of a sea of the purest +white for five or six months of the year. Impelled by hunger, troops of +prairie wolves prowl round the settlement, safe from the assault of man +in consequence of their light weight permitting them to scamper away on +the surface of the snow, into which man or horse, from their greater +weight, would sink, so as to render pursuit either fearfully laborious +or altogether impossible. In spring, however, when the first thaws +begin to take place, and commence that delightful process of disruption +which introduces this charming season of the year, the relative +position of wolf and man is reversed. The snow becomes suddenly soft, +so that the short legs of the wolf, sinking deep into it, fail to reach +the solid ground below, and he is obliged to drag heavily along; while +the long legs of the horse enable him to plunge through and dash aside +the snow at a rate which, although not very fleet, is sufficient +nevertheless to overtake the chase and give his rider a chance of +shooting it. The inhabitants of Red River are not much addicted to this +sport, but the gentlemen of the Hudson’s Bay Service sometimes practise +it; and it was to a hunt of this description that our young friend +Charley Kennedy was now so anxious to go. + +The morning was propitious. The sun blazed in dazzling splendour in a +sky of deep unclouded blue, while the white prairie glittered as if it +were a sea of diamonds rolling out in an unbroken sheet from the walls +of the fort to the horizon, and on looking at which one experienced all +the pleasurable feelings of being out on a calm day on the wide, wide +sea, without the disagreeable consequence of being very, very sick. + +The thermometer stood at 39° in the shade, and “everythi_k_” as Tom +Whyte emphatically expressed it, “looked like a runnin’ of right away +into slush.” That unusual sound, the trickling of water, so +inexpressibly grateful to the ears of those who dwell in frosty climes, +was heard all around, as the heavy masses of snow on the housetops sent +a few adventurous drops gliding down the icicles which depended from +the eaves and gables; and there was a balmy softness in the air that +told of coming spring. Nature, in fact, seemed to have wakened from her +long nap, and was beginning to think of getting up. Like people, +however, who venture to delay so long as to _think_ about it, Nature +frequently turns round and goes to sleep again in her icy cradle for a +few weeks after the first awakening. + +The scene in the court-yard of Fort Garry harmonised with the cheerful +spirit of the morning. Tom Whyte, with that upright solemnity which +constituted one of his characteristic features, was standing in the +centre of a group of horses, whose energy he endeavoured to restrain +with the help of a small Indian boy, to whom meanwhile he imparted a +variety of useful and otherwise unattainable information. + +“You see, Joseph,” said he to the urchin, who gazed gravely in his face +with a pair of very large and dark eyes, “ponies is often skittish. +Reason why one should be, an’ another not, I can’t comprehend. P’r’aps +it’s nat’ral, p’r’aps not, but howsomediver so ’tis; an’ if it’s more +nor above the likes o’ _me_, Joseph, you needn’t be suprised that it’s +somethink haltogether beyond _you_.” + +It will not surprise the reader to be told that Joseph made no reply to +this speech, having a very imperfect acquaintance with the English +language, especially the peculiar dialect of that tongue in which Tom +Whyte was wont to express his ideas, when he had any. + +He merely gave a grunt, and continued to gaze at Tom’s fishy eyes, +which were about as interesting as the face to which they belonged, and +_that_ might have been mistaken for almost anything. + +“Yes, Joseph,” he continued, “that’s a fact. There’s the noo brown o’ss +now, _it’s_ a skittish ’un. And there’s Mr. Kennedy’s gray mare, wot’s +a standin’ of beside me, she ain’t skittish a bit, though she’s plenty +of spirit, and wouldn’t care hanythink for a five-barred gate. Now, wot +I want to know is, wot’s the reason why?” + +We fear that the reason why, however interesting it might prove to +naturalists, must remain a profound secret for ever; for just as the +groom was about to entertain Joseph with one of his theories on the +point, Charley Kennedy and Harry Somerville hastily approached. + +“Ho, Tom!” exclaimed the former, “have you got the miller’s pony for +me?” + +“Why, no, sir; ’e ’adn’t got his shoes on, sir, last night—” + +“Oh, bother his shoes!” said Charley, in a voice of great +disappointment. “Why didn’t you bring him up without shoes, man, eh?” + +“Well, sir, the miller said ’e’d get ’em put on early this mornin’, an’ +I ’xpect ’e’ll be ’ere in ’alf-a-hour at farthest, sir.” + +“Oh, very well,” replied Charley, much relieved, but still a little +nettled at the bare possibility of being late.—“Come along, Harry; +let’s go and meet him. He’ll be long enough of coming if we don’t go to +poke him up a bit.” + +“You’d better wait,” called out the groom, as the boys hastened away. +“If you go by the river, he’ll p’r’aps come by the plains; and if you +go by the plains, he’ll p’r’aps come by the river.” + +Charley and Harry stopped and looked at each other. Then they looked at +the groom, and as their eyes surveyed his solemn, cadaverous +countenance, which seemed a sort of bad caricature of the long visages +of the horses that stood around him, they burst into a simultaneous and +prolonged laugh. + +“He’s a clever old lamp-post,” said Harry at last: “we had better +remain, Charley.” + +“You see,” continued Tom Whyte, “the pony’s ’oofs is in an ’orrible +state. Last night w’en I see’d ’im I said to the miller, says I, ‘John, +I’ll take ’im down to the smith d’rectly.’ ‘Very good,’ said John. So I +’ad him down to the smith—” + +The remainder of Tom’s speech was cut short by one of those unforeseen +operations of the laws of nature which are peculiar to arctic climates. +During the long winter repeated falls of snow cover the housetops with +white mantles upwards of a foot thick, which become gradually thicker +and more consolidated as winter advances. In spring the suddenness of +the thaw loosens these from the sloping roofs, and precipitates them in +masses to the ground. These miniature avalanches are dangerous, people +having been seriously injured and sometimes killed by them. Now it +happened that a very large mass of snow, which lay on and partly +depended from the roof of the house near to which the horses were +standing, gave way, and just at that critical point in Tom Whyte’s +speech when he “’ad ’im down to the smith,” fell with a stunning crash +on the back of Mr. Kennedy’s gray mare. The mare was not “skittish”—by +no means—according to Tom’s idea, but it would have been more than an +ordinary mare to have stood the sudden descent of half-a-ton of snow +without _some_ symptoms of consciousness. No sooner did it feel the +blow than it sent both heels with a bang against the wooden store, by +way of preliminary movement, and then rearing up with a wild snort, it +sprang over Tom Whyte’s head, jerked the reins from his hand, and upset +him in the snow. Poor Tom never _bent_ to anything. The military +despotism under which he had been reared having substituted a touch of +the cap for a bow, rendered it unnecessary to bend; prolonged drill, +laziness, and rheumatism made it at last impossible. When he stood up, +he did so after the manner of a pillar; when he sat down, he broke +across at two points, much in the way in which a foot-rule would have +done had _it_ felt disposed to sit down; and when he fell, he came down +like an overturned lamp-post. On the present occasion Tom became +horizontal in a moment, and from his unfortunate propensity to fall +straight, his head, reaching much farther than might have been +expected, came into violent contact with the small Indian boy, who fell +flat likewise, letting go the reins of the horses, which latter no +sooner felt themselves free than they fled, curvetting and snorting +round the court, with reins and manes flying in rare confusion. + +The two boys, who could scarce stand for laughing, ran to the gates of +the fort to prevent the chargers getting free, and in a short time they +were again secured, although evidently much elated in spirit. + +A few minutes after this Mr. Grant issued from the principal house +leaning on Mr. Kennedy’s arm, and followed by the senior clerk, Peter +Mactavish, and one or two friends who had come to take part in the +wolf-hunt. They were all armed with double or single barrelled guns or +pistols, according to their several fancies. The two elderly gentlemen +alone entered upon the scene without any more deadly weapons than their +heavy riding-whips. Young Harry Somerville, who had been strongly +advised not to take a gun lest he should shoot himself or his horse or +his companions, was content to take the field with a small +pocket-pistol, which he crammed to the muzzle with a compound of ball +and swan-shot. + +“It won’t do,” said Mr. Grant, in an earnest voice, to his friend, as +they walked towards the horses—“it won’t do to check him too abruptly, +my dear sir.” + +It was evident that they were recurring to the subject of conversation +of the previous day, and it was also evident that the father’s wrath +was in that very uncertain state when a word or look can throw it into +violent agitation. + +“Just permit me,” continued Mr. Grant, “to get him sent to the +Saskatchewan or Athabasca for a couple of years. By that time he’ll +have had enough of a rough life, and be only too glad to get a berth at +headquarters. If you thwart him now, I feel convinced that he’ll break +through all restraint.” + +“Humph!” ejaculated Mr. Kennedy, with a frown—“Come here, Charley,” he +said, as the boy approached with a disappointed look to tell of his +failure in getting a horse; “I’ve been talking with Mr. Grant again +about this business, and he says he can easily get you into the +counting-room here for a year, so you’ll make arrangements—” + +The old gentleman paused. He was going to have followed his wonted +course by _commanding_ instantaneous obedience; but as his eye fell +upon the honest, open, though disappointed face of his son, a gush of +tenderness filled his heart. Laying his hand upon Charley’s head, he +said, in a kind but abrupt tone, “There now, Charley, my boy, make up +your mind to give in with a good grace. It’ll only be hard work for a +year or two, and then plain sailing after that, Charley!” + +Charley’s clear blue eyes filled with tears as the accents of kindness +fell upon his ear. + +It is strange that men should frequently be so blind to the potent +influence of kindness. Independently of the Divine authority, which +assures us that “a soft answer turneth away wrath,” and that “_love_ is +the fulfilling of the law,” who has not, in the course of his +experience, felt the overwhelming power of a truly affectionate word; +not a word which possesses merely an affectionate signification, but a +word spoken with a gush of tenderness, where love rolls in the tone, +and beams in the eye, and revels in every wrinkle of the face? And how +much more powerfully does such a word or look or tone strike home to +the heart if uttered by one whose lips are not much accustomed to the +formation of honeyed words or sweet sentences! Had Mr. Kennedy, senior, +known more of this power, and put it more frequently to the proof, we +venture to affirm that Mr. Kennedy, junior, would have _allowed_ his +_“flint to be fixed”_ (as his father pithily expressed it) long ago. + +Ere Charley could reply to the question, Mr. Grant’s voice, pitched in +an elevated key, interrupted them. + +“Eh! what?” said that gentleman to Tom Whyte. “No horse for Charley! +How’s that?” + +“No, sir,” said Tom. + +“Where’s the brown pony?” said Mr. Grant, abruptly. + +“Cut ’is fetlock, sir,” said Tom, slowly. + +“And the new horse?” + +“’Tan’t ’alf broke yet, sir.” + +“Ah! that’s bad.—It wouldn’t do to take an unbroken charger, Charley; +for although you are a pretty good rider, you couldn’t manage him, I +fear. Let me see.” + +“Please, sir,” said the groom, touching his hat, “I’ve borrowed the +miller’s pony for ’im, and ’e’s sure to be ’ere in ’alf-a-hour at +farthest.” + +“Oh, that’ll do,” said Mr. Grant; “you can soon overtake us. We shall +ride slowly out, straight into the prairie, and Harry will remain +behind to keep you company.” + +So saying, Mr. Grant mounted his horse and rode out at the back gate, +followed by the whole cavalcade. + +“Now this is too bad!” said Charley, looking with a very perplexed air +at his companion. “What’s to be done?” + +Harry evidently did not know what was to be done, and made no +difficulty of saying so in a very sympathising tone. Moreover, he +begged Charley very earnestly to take _his_ pony, but this the other +would not hear of; so they came to the conclusion that there was +nothing for it but to wait as patiently as possible for the arrival of +the expected horse. In the meantime Harry proposed a saunter in the +field adjoining the fort. Charley assented, and the two friends walked +away, leading the gray pony along with them. + +To the right of Fort Garry was a small enclosure, at the extreme end of +which commences a growth of willows and underwood, which gradually +increases in size till it becomes a pretty thick belt of woodland, +skirting up the river for many miles. Here stood the stable belonging +to the establishment; and as the boys passed it, Charley suddenly +conceived a strong desire to see the renowned “noo ’oss,” which Tom +Whyte had said was only “’alf broke;” so he turned the key, opened the +door, and went in. + +There was nothing _very_ peculiar about this horse, excepting that his +legs seemed rather long for his body, and upon a closer examination, +there was a noticeable breadth of nostril and a latent fire in his eye, +indicating a good deal of spirit, which, like Charley’s own, required +taming. + +“Oh” said Charley, “what a splendid fellow! I say, Harry, I’ll go out +with _him.”_ + +“You’d better not.” + +“Why not?” + +“Why? just because if you do Mr. Grant will be down upon you, and your +father won’t be very well pleased.” + +“Nonsense,” cried Charley. “Father didn’t say I wasn’t to take him. I +don’t think he’d care much. He’s not afraid of my breaking my neck. And +then, Mr. Grant seemed to be only afraid of my being run off with—not +of his horse being hurt. Here goes for it!” In another moment Charley +had him saddled and bridled, and led him out into the yard. + +“Why, I declare, he’s quite quiet; just like a lamb,” said Harry, in +surprise. + +“So he is,” replied Charley. “He’s a capital charger; and even if he +does bolt, he can’t run five hundred miles at a stretch. If I turn his +head to the prairies, the Rocky Mountains are the first things that +will bring him up. So let him run if he likes, I don’t care a fig.” And +springing lightly into the saddle, he cantered out of the yard, +followed by his friend. + +The young horse was a well-formed, showy animal, with a good deal of +bone—perhaps too much for elegance. He was of a beautiful dark brown, +and carried a high head and tail, with a high-stepping gait, that gave +him a noble appearance. As Charley cantered along at a steady pace, he +could discover no symptoms of the refractory spirit which had been +ascribed to him. + +“Let us strike out straight for the horizon now,” said Harry, after +they had galloped half-a-mile or so along the beaten track. “See, here +are the tracks of our friends.” Turning sharp round as he spoke, he +leaped his pony over the heap that lined the road, and galloped away +through the soft snow. + +At this point the young horse began to show his evil spirit. Instead of +following the other, he suddenly halted and began to back. + +“Hollo, Harry!” exclaimed Charley; “hold on a bit. Here’s this monster +begun his tricks.” + +“Hit him a crack with the whip,” shouted Harry. + +Charley acted upon the advice, which had the effect of making the horse +shake his head with a sharp snort, and back more vigorously than ever. + +“There, my fine fellow, quiet now,” said Charley, in a soothing tone, +patting the horse’s neck. “It’s a comfort to know you can’t go far in +_that_ direction, anyhow!” he added, as he glanced over his shoulder, +and saw an immense drift behind. + +He was right. In a few minutes the horse backed into the snow-drift. +Finding his hind-quarters imprisoned by a power that was too much even +for _his_ obstinacy to overcome, he gave another snort and a heavy +plunge, which almost unseated his young rider. + +“Hold on fast,” cried Harry, who had now come up. + +“No fear,” cried Charley, as he clinched his teeth and gathered the +reins more firmly.—“Now for it, you young villain!” and raising his +whip, he brought it down with a heavy slash on the horse’s flank. + +Had the snow-drift been a cannon, and the horse a bombshell, he could +scarcely have sprung from it with greater velocity. One bound landed +him on the road; another cleared it; and, in a second more, he +stretched out at full speed—his ears flat on his neck, mane and tail +flying in the wind, and the bit tight between his teeth. + +“Well done,” cried Harry, as he passed. “You’re off now, old fellow; +good-bye.” + +“Hurrah!” shouted Charley, in reply, leaving his cap in the snow as a +parting souvenir; while, seeing that it was useless to endeavour to +check his steed, he became quite wild with excitement; gave him the +rein; flourished his whip; and flew over the white plains, casting up +the snow in clouds behind him like a hurricane. + +While this little escapade was being enacted by the boys, the hunters +were riding leisurely out upon the snowy sea in search of a wolf. + +Words cannot convey to you, dear reader, an adequate conception of the +peculiar fascination, the exhilarating splendour of the scene by which +our hunters were surrounded. Its beauty lay not in variety of feature +in the landscape, for there was none. One vast sheet of white alone met +the view, bounded all round by the blue circle of the sky, and broken, +in one or two places, by a patch or two of willows, which, rising on +the plain, appeared like little islands in a frozen sea. It was the +glittering sparkle of the snow in the bright sunshine; the dreamy +haziness of the atmosphere, mingling earth and sky as in a halo of +gold; the first taste, the first _smell_ of spring after a long winter, +bursting suddenly upon the senses, like the unexpected visit of a +long-absent, much-loved, and almost-forgotten friend; the soft, warm +feeling of the south wind, bearing on its wings the balmy influences of +sunny climes, and recalling vividly the scenes, the pleasures, the +bustling occupations of summer. It was this that caused the hunters’ +hearts to leap within them as they rode along—that induced old Mr. +Kennedy to forget his years, and shout as he had been wont to do in +days gone by, when he used to follow the track of the elk or hunt the +wild buffalo; and it was this that made the otherwise monotonous +prairies, on this particular clay, so charming. + +The party had wandered about without discovering anything that bore the +smallest resemblance to a wolf, for upwards of an hour; Fort Garry had +fallen astern (to use a nautical phrase) until it had become a mere +speck on the horizon, and vanished altogether; Peter Mactavish had +twice given a false alarm, in the eagerness of his spirit, and had +three times plunged his horse up to the girths in a snow-drift; the +senior clerk was waxing impatient, and the horses restive, when a +sudden “Hollo!” from Mr. Grant brought the whole cavalcade to a stand. + +The object which drew his attention, and to which he directed the +anxious eyes of his friends was a small speck, rather triangular in +form, which overtopped a little willow bush not more than five or six +hundred yards distant. + +“There he is!” exclaimed Mr. Grant. “That’s a fact,” cried Mr. Kennedy; +and both gentlemen, instantaneously giving a shout, bounded towards the +object; not, however, before the senior clerk, who was mounted on a +fleet and strong horse, had taken the lead by six yards. A moment +afterwards the speck rose up and discovered itself to be a veritable +wolf. Moreover, he condescended to show his teeth, and then, conceiving +it probable that his enemies were too numerous for him, he turned +suddenly round and fled away. For ten minutes or so the chase was kept +up at full speed, and as the snow happened to be shallow at the +starting-point, the wolf kept well ahead of its pursuers—indeed, +distanced them a little. But soon the snow became deeper, and the wolf +plunged heavily, and the horses gained considerably. Although to the +eye the prairies seemed to be a uniform level, there were numerous +slight undulations, in which drifts of some depth had collected. Into +one of these the wolf now plunged and laboured slowly through it. But +so deep was the snow that the horses almost stuck fast. A few minutes, +however, brought them out, and Mr. Grant and Mr. Kennedy, who had kept +close to each other during the run, pulled up for a moment on the +summit of a ridge to breathe their panting steeds. + +“What can that be?” exclaimed the former, pointing with his whip to a +distant object which was moving rapidly over the plain. + +“Eh! what—where?” said Mr. Kennedy, shading his eyes with his hand, and +peering in the direction indicated. “Why, that’s another wolf, isn’t +it? No; it runs too fast for that.” + +“Strange,” said his friend; “what _can_ it be?” + +“If I hadn’t seen every beast in the country,” remarked Mr. Kennedy, +“and didn’t know that there are no such animals north of the equator, I +should say it was a mad dromedary mounted by a ring-tailed roarer.” + +“It can’t be surely—not possible!” exclaimed Mr. Grant. “It’s not +Charley on the new horse!” + +Mr. Grant said this with an air of vexation that annoyed his friend a +little. He would not have much minded Charley’s taking a horse without +leave, no matter how wild it might be; but he did not at all relish the +idea of making an apology for his son’s misconduct, and for the moment +did not exactly know what to say. As usual in such a dilemma, the old +man took refuge in a towering passion, gave his steed a sharp cut with +the whip, and galloped forward to meet the delinquent. + +We are not acquainted with the general appearance of a “ring-tailed +roarer;” in fact, we have grave doubts as to whether such an animal +exists at all; but if it does, and is particularly wild, dishevelled, +and fierce in deportment, there is no doubt whatever that when Mr. +Kennedy applied the name to his hopeful son, the application was +singularly powerful and appropriate. + +Charley had had a long run since we last saw him. After describing a +wide curve, in which his charger displayed a surprising aptitude for +picking out the ground that was least covered with snow, he headed +straight for the fort again at the same pace at which he had started. +At first Charley tried every possible method to check him, but in vain; +so he gave it up, resolving to enjoy the race, since he could not +prevent it. The young horse seemed to be made of lightning, with bones +and muscles of brass; for he bounded untiringly forward for miles, +tossing his head and snorting in his wild career. But Charley was a +good horseman, and did not mind _that_ much, being quite satisfied that +the horse _was_ a horse and not a spirit, and that therefore he could +not run for ever. At last he approached the party, in search of which +he had originally set out. His eyes dilated and his colour heightened +as he beheld the wolf running directly towards him. Fumbling hastily +for the pistol which he had borrowed from his friend Harry, he drew it +from his pocket, and prepared to give the animal a shot in passing. +Just at that moment the wolf caught sight of this new enemy in advance, +and diverged suddenly to the left, plunging into a drift in his +confusion, and so enabling the senior clerk to overtake him, and send +an ounce of heavy shot into his side, which turned him over quite dead. +The shot, however had a double effect. At that instant Charley swept +past; and his mettlesome steed swerved as it heard the loud report of +the gun, thereby almost unhorsing his rider, and causing him +unintentionally to discharge the conglomerate of bullets and swan-shot +into the flank of Peter Mactavish’s horse—fortunately at a distance +which rendered the shot equivalent to a dozen very sharp and +particularly stinging blows. On receiving this unexpected salute, the +astonished charger reared convulsively, and fell back upon his rider, +who was thereby buried deep in the snow, not a vestige of him being +left, no more than if he had never existed at all. Indeed, for a moment +it seemed to be doubtful whether poor Peter _did_ exist or not, until a +sudden upheaving of the snow took place, and his dishevelled head +appeared, with the eyes and mouth wide open, bearing on them an +expression of mingled horror and amazement. Meanwhile the second shot +acted like a spur on the young horse, which flew past Mr. Kennedy like +a whirlwind. + +“Stop, you young scoundrel!” he shouted, shaking his fist at Charley as +he passed. + +Charley was past stopping, either by inclination or ability. This +sudden and unexpected accumulation of disasters was too much for him. +As he passed his sire, with his brown curls streaming straight out +behind, and his eyes flashing with excitement, his teeth clinched, and +his horse tearing along more like an incarnate fiend than an animal, a +spirit of combined recklessness, consternation, indignation, and glee +took possession of him. He waved his whip wildly over his head, brought +it down with a stinging cut on the horse’s neck, and uttered a shout of +defiance that threw completely into the shade the loudest war-whoop +that was ever uttered by the brazen lungs of the wildest savage between +Hudson’s Bay and Oregon. Seeing and hearing this, old Mr. Kennedy +wheeled about and dashed off in pursuit with much greater energy than +he had displayed in chase of the wolf. + +The race bid fair to be a long one, for the young horse was strong in +wind and limb; and the gray mare, though decidedly not “the better +horse,” was much fresher than the other. + +The hunters, who were now joined by Harry Somerville, did not feel it +incumbent on them to follow this new chase; so they contented +themselves with watching their flight towards the fort, while they +followed at a more leisurely pace. + +Meanwhile Charley rapidly neared Fort Garry, and now began to wonder +whether the stable door was open, and if so, whether it were better for +him to take his chance of getting his neck broken, or to throw himself +into the next snow-drift that presented itself. + +He had not to remain long in suspense. The wooden fence that enclosed +the stable-yard lay before him. It was between four and five feet high, +with a beaten track running along the outside, and a deep snow-drift on +the other. Charley felt that the young horse had made up his mind to +leap this. As he did not at the moment see that there was anything +better to be done, he prepared for it. As the horse bent on his +haunches to spring, he gave him a smart cut with the whip, went over +like a rocket, and plunged up to the neck in the snow-drift; which +brought his career to an abrupt conclusion. The sudden stoppage of the +horse was _one_ thing, but the arresting of Master Charley was +_another_ and quite a different thing. The instant his charger landed, +he left the saddle like a harlequin, described an extensive curve in +the air, and fell head foremost into the drift, above which his boots +and three inches of his legs alone remained to tell the tale. + +On witnessing this climax, Mr. Kennedy, senior, pulled up, dismounted, +and ran—with an expression of some anxiety on his countenance—to the +help of his son, while Tom Whyte came out of the stable just in time to +receive the “noo ’oss” as he floundered out of the snow. + +“I believe,” said the groom, as he surveyed the trembling charger, +“that your son has broke the noo ’oss, sir, better nor I could ’ave +done myself.” + +“I believe that my son has broken his neck,” said Mr. Kennedy +wrathfully. “Come here and help me to dig him out.” + +In a few minutes Charley was dug out, in a state of insensibility, and +carried up to the fort, where he was laid on a bed, and restoratives +actively applied for his recovery. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +Peter Mactavish becomes an amateur doctor; Charley promulgates his +views of tilings in general to Kate; and Kate waxes sagacious. + + +Shortly after the catastrophe just related, Charley opened his eyes to +consciousness, and aroused himself out of a prolonged fainting fit, +under the combined influence of a strong constitution and the medical +treatment of his friends. + +Medical treatment in the wilds of North America, by the way, is very +original in its character, and is founded on principles so vague that +no one has ever been found capable of stating them clearly. Owing to +the stubborn fact that there are no doctors in the country, men have +been thrown upon their own resources, and as a natural consequence +_every_ man is a doctor. True, there _are_ two, it may be three, real +doctors in the Hudson’s Bay Company’s employment; but as one of these +is resident on the shores of Hudson’s Bay, another in Oregon, and a +third in Red River Settlement, they are not considered available for +every case of emergency that may chance to occur in the hundreds of +little outposts, scattered far and wide over the whole continent of +North America, with miles and miles of primeval wilderness between +each. We do not think, therefore, that when we say there are _no_ +doctors in the country, we use a culpable amount of exaggeration. + +If a man gets ill, he goes on till he gets better; and if he doesn’t +get better, he dies. To avert such an undesirable consummation, +desperate and random efforts are made in an amateur way. The old +proverb that “extremes meet” is verified. And in a land where no +doctors are to be had for love or money, doctors meet you at every +turn, ready to practise on everything, with anything, and all for +nothing, on the shortest possible notice. As maybe supposed, the +practice is novel, and not unfrequently extremely wild. Tooth-drawing +is considered child’s play—mere blacksmith’s work; bleeding is a +general remedy for everything, when all else fails; castor-oil, Epsom +salts, and emetics are the three keynotes, the foundations, and the +copestones of the system. + +In Red River there is only one _genuine_ doctor; and as the settlement +is fully sixty miles long, he has enough to do, and cannot always be +found when wanted, so that Charley had to rest content with amateur +treatment in the meantime. Peter Mactavish was the first to try his +powers. He was aware that laudanum had the effect of producing sleep, +and seeing that Charley looked somewhat sleepy after recovering +consciousness, he thought it advisable to help out that propensity to +slumber, and went to the medicine-chest, whence he extracted a small +phial of tincture of rhubarb, the half of which he emptied into a +wine-glass, under the impression that it was laudanum, and poured down +Charley’s throat! The poor boy swallowed a little, and sputtered the +remainder over the bedclothes. It may be remarked here that Mactavish +was a wild, happy, half-mad sort of fellow—wonderfully erudite in +regard to some things, and profoundly ignorant in regard to others. +Medicine, it need scarcely be added, was not his _forte_. Having +accomplished this feat to his satisfaction, he sat down to watch by the +bedside of his friend. Peter had taken this opportunity to indulge in a +little private practice just after several of the other gentlemen had +left the office, under the impression that Charley had better remain +quiet for a short time. + +“Well, Peter,” whispered Mr. Kennedy, senior, putting his head in at +the door (it was Harry’s room in which Charley lay), “how is he now?” + +“Oh! doing capitally,” replied Peter, in a hoarse whisper, at the same +time rising and entering the office, while he gently closed the door +behind him. “I gave him a small dose of physic, which I think has done +mm good. He’s sleeping like a top now.” + +Mr. Kennedy frowned slightly, and made one or two remarks in reference +to physic which were not calculated to gratify the ears of a physician. + +“What did you give him?” he inquired abruptly. + +“Only a little laudanum.” + +“_Only,_ indeed! it’s all trash together, and that’s the worst kind of +trash you could have given him. Humph!” and the old gentleman jerked +his shoulders testily. + +“How much did yon give him?” said the senior clerk, who had entered the +apartment with Harry a few minutes before. + +“Not quite a wineglassful,” replied Peter, somewhat subdued. + +“A what!” cried the father, starting from his chair as if he had +received an electric shock, and rushing into the adjoining room, up and +down which he raved in a state of distraction, being utterly ignorant +of what should be done under the circumstances. + +Poor Harry Somerville fell rather than leaped off his stool, and dashed +into the bedroom, where old Mr. Kennedy was occupied in alternately +heaping unutterable abuse on the head of Peter Mactavish, and imploring +him to advise what was best to be done. But Peter knew not. He could +only make one or two insane proposals to roll Charley about the floor, +and see if _that_ would do him any good; while Harry suggested in +desperation that he should be hung by the heels, and perhaps it would +run out! + +Meanwhile the senior clerk seized his hat, with the intention of going +in search of Tom Whyte, and rushed out at the door; which he had no +sooner done than he found himself tightly embraced in the arms of that +worthy, who happened to be entering at the moment, and who, in +consequence of the sudden onset, was pinned up against the wall of the +porch. + +“Oh, my buzzum!” exclaimed Tom, laying his hand on his breast; “you’ve +a’most bu’st me, sir. W’at’s wrong, sir?” + +“Go for the doctor, Tom, quick! run like the wind. Take the freshest +horse; fly, Tom, Charley’s poisoned—laudanum; quick!” + +“’Eavens an’ ’arth!” ejaculated the groom, wheeling round, and stalking +rapidly off to the stable like a pair of insane compasses, while the +senior clerk returned to the bedroom, where he found Mr. Kennedy still +raving, Peter Mactavish still aghast and deadly pale, and Harry +Somerville staring like a maniac at his young friend, as if he expected +every moment to see him explode, although, to all appearance, he was +sleeping soundly, and comfortably too, notwithstanding the noise that +was going on around him. Suddenly Harry’s eye rested on the label of +the half-empty phial, and he uttered a loud, prolonged cheer. + +“It’s only tincture of—” + +“Wild cats and furies!” cried Mr. Kennedy, turning sharply round and +seizing Harry by the collar, “why d’you kick up such a row, eh?” + +“It’s only tincture of rhubarb,” repeated the boy, disengaging himself +and holding up the phial triumphantly. + +“So it is, I declare,” exclaimed Mr. Kennedy, in a tone that indicated +intense relief of mind; while Peter Mactavish uttered a sigh so deep +that one might suppose a burden of innumerable tons weight had just +been removed from his breast. + +Charley had been roused from his slumbers by this last ebullition; but +on being told what had caused it, he turned languidly round on his +pillow and went to sleep again, while his friends departed and left him +to repose. + +Tom Whyte failed to find the doctor. The servant told him that her +master had been suddenly called to set a broken leg that morning for a +trapper who lived ten miles _down_ the river, and on his return had +found a man waiting with a horse and cariole, who carried him violently +away to see his wife, who had been taken suddenly ill at a house twenty +miles _up_ the river, and so she didn’t expect him back that night. + +“An’ where has ’e been took to?” inquired Tom. + +She couldn’t tell; she knew it was somewhere about the White-horse +Plains, but she didn’t know more than that. + +“Did ’e not say w’en ’e’d be home?” + +“No, he didn’t.” + +“Oh dear!” said Tom, rubbing his long nose in great perplexity. “It’s +an ’orrible case o’ sudden and onexpected pison.” + +She was sorry for it, but couldn’t help that; and thereupon, bidding +him good-morning, shut the door. + +Tom’s wits had come to that condition which just precedes “giving it +up” as hopeless, when it occurred to him that he was not far from old +Mr. Kennedy’s residence; so he stepped into the cariole again and drove +thither. On his arrival he threw poor Mrs. Kennedy and Kate into great +consternation by his exceedingly graphic, and more than slightly +exaggerated, account of what had brought him in search of the doctor. +At first Mrs. Kennedy resolved to go up to Fort Garry immediately, but +Kate persuaded her to remain at home, by pointing out that she could +herself go, and if anything very serious had occurred (which she didn’t +believe), Mr. Kennedy could come down for her immediately, while she +(Kate) could remain to nurse her brother. + +In a few minutes Kate and Tom were seated side by side in the little +cariole, driving swiftly up the frozen river; and two hours later the +former was seated by her brother’s bedside, watching him as he slept +with a look of tender affection and solicitude. + +Rousing himself from his slumbers, Charley looked vacantly round the +room. + +“Have you slept well, darling?” inquired Kate, laying her hand lightly +on his forehead. + +“Slept—eh! oh yes. I’ve slept. I say, Kate, what a precious bump I came +down on my head, to be sure!” + +“Hush, Charley!” said Kate, perceiving that he was becoming energetic. +“Father said you were to keep quiet—and so do I,” she added, with a +frown. “Shut your eyes, sir, and go to sleep.” + +Charley complied by shutting his eyes, and opening his mouth, and +uttering a succession of deep snores. + +“Now, you bad boy,” said Kate, “why _won’t_ you try to rest?” + +“Because, Kate, dear,” said Charley, opening his eyes again—“because I +feel as if I had slept a week at least; and not being one of the seven +sleepers, I don’t think it necessary to do more in that way just now. +Besides, my sweet but particularly wicked sister, I wish just at this +moment to have a talk with you.” + +“But are you sure it won’t do you harm to talk? do you feel quite +strong enough?” + +“Quite: Sampson was a mere infant compared to me.” + +“Oh, don’t talk nonsense, Charley dear, and keep your hands quiet, and +don’t lift the clothes with your knees in that way, else I’ll go away +and leave you.” + +“Very well, my pet; if you do, I’ll get up and dress and follow you, +that’s all! But come, Kate, tell me first of all how it was that I got +pitched off that long-legged rhinoceros, and who it was that picked me +up, and why wasn’t I killed, and how did I come here; for my head is +sadly confused, and I scarcely recollect anything that has happened; +and before commencing your discourse, Kate, please hand me a glass of +water, for my mouth is as dry as a whistle.” + +Kate handed him a glass of water, smoothed his pillow, brushed the +curls gently off his forehead, and sat down on the bedside. + +“Thank you, Kate; now go on.” + +“Well, you see,” she began— + +“Pardon me, dearest,” interrupted Charley, “if you would please to look +at me you would observe that my two eyes are tightly closed, so that I +don’t _see_ at all.” + +“Well, then, you must understand—” + +“Must I? Oh!—” + +“That after that wicked horse leaped with you over the stable fence, +you were thrown high into the air, and turning completely round, fell +head foremost into the snow, and your poor head went through the top of +an old cask that had been buried there all winter.” + +“Dear me!” ejaculated Charley; “did anyone see me, Kate?” + +“Oh yes.” + +“Who?” asked Charley, somewhat anxiously; “not Mrs. Grant, I hope? for +if she did she’d never let me hear the last of it.” + +“No; only our father, who was chasing you at the time,” replied Kate, +with a merry laugh. + +“And no one else?” + +“No—oh yes, by-the-by, Tom Whyte was there too.” + +“Oh, he’s nobody. Go on.” + +“But tell me, Charley, why do you care about Mrs. Grant seeing you?” + +“Oh! no reason at all, only she’s such an abominable quiz.” + +We must guard the reader here against the supposition that Mrs. Grant +was a quiz of the ordinary kind. She was by no means a sprightly, +clever woman, rather fond of a joke than otherwise, as the term might +lead you to suppose. Her corporeal frame was very large, excessively +fat, and remarkably unwieldy; being an appropriate casket in which to +enshrine a mind of the heaviest and most sluggish nature. She spoke +little, ate largely, and slept much—the latter recreation being very +frequently enjoyed in a large arm-chair of a peculiar kind. It had been +a water-butt, which her ingenious husband had cut half-way down the +middle, then half-way across, and in the angle thus formed fixed a +bottom, which, together with the back, he padded with tow, and covered +the whole with a mantle of glaring bed-curtain chintz, whose pattern +alternated in stripes of sky-blue and china roses, with broken +fragments of the rainbow between. Notwithstanding her excessive +slowness, however, Mrs. Grant was fond of taking a firm hold of +anything or any circumstance in the character or affairs of her +friends, and twitting them thereupon in a grave but persevering manner +that was exceedingly irritating. No one could ever ascertain whether +Mrs. Grant did this in a sly way or not, as her visage never expressed +anything except unalterable good-humour. She was a good wife and an +affectionate mother; had a family of ten children, and could boast of +never having had more than one quarrel with her husband. This +disagreement was occasioned by a rather awkward mischance. One day, not +long after her last baby was born, Mrs. Grant waddled towards her tub +with the intention of enjoying her accustomed siesta. A few minutes +previously, her seventh child, which was just able to walk, had +scrambled up into the seat and fallen fast asleep there. As has been +already said, Mrs. Grant’s intellect was never very bright, and at this +particular time she was rather drowsy, so that she did not observe the +child, and on reaching her chair, turned round preparatory to letting +herself plump into it. She always _plumped_ into her chair. Her muscles +were too soft to lower her gently down into it. Invariably on reaching +a certain point they ceased to act, and let her down with a crash. She +had just reached this point, and her baby’s hopes and prospects were on +the eve of being cruelly crushed for ever, when Mr. Grant noticed the +impending calamity. He had no time to warn her, for she had already +passed the point at which her powers of muscular endurance terminated; +so grasping the chair, he suddenly withdrew it with such force that the +baby rolled off upon the floor like a hedgehog, straightened out flat, +and gave vent to an outrageous roar, while its horror-struck mother +came to the ground with a sound resembling the fall of an enormous sack +of wool. Although the old lady could not see exactly that there was +anything very blameworthy in her husband’s conduct on this occasion, +yet her nerves had received so severe a shock that she refused to be +comforted for two entire days. + +But to return from this digression. After Charley had two or three +times recommended Kate (who was a little inclined to be quizzical) to +proceed, she continued,— + +“Well, then you were carried up here by father and Tom Whyte, and put +to bed, and after a good deal of rubbing and rough treatment you were +got round. Then Peter Mactavish nearly poisoned you, but fortunately he +was such a goose that he did not think of reading the label of the +phial, and so gave you a dose of tincture of rhubarb instead of +laudanum as he had intended; and then father flew into a passion, and +Tom Whyte was sent to fetch the doctor, and couldn’t find him; but +fortunately he found me, which was much better, I think, and brought me +up here. And so here I am, and here I intend to remain.” + +“And so that’s the end of it. Well, Kate, I’m very glad it was no +worse.” + +“And I am very _thankful_” said Kate, with emphasis on the word, “that +it’s no worse.” + +“Oh, well, you know, Kate, I _meant_ that, of course.” + +“But you did not _say_ it,” replied his sister earnestly. + +“To be sure not,” said Charley gaily; “it would be absurd to be always +making solemn speeches, and things of that sort, every time one has a +little accident.” + +“True, Charley; but when one has a very serious accident, and escapes +unhurt, don’t you think that _then_ it would be—” + +“Oh yes, to be sure,” interrupted Charley, who still strove to turn +Kate from her serious frame of mind; “but sister dear, how could I +possibly _say_ I was thankful with my head crammed into an old cask and +my feet pointing up to the blue sky, eh?” + +Kate smiled at this, and laid her hand on his arm, while she bent over +the pillow and looked tenderly into his eyes. + +“O my darling Charley, you are disposed to jest about it; but I cannot +tell you how my heart trembled this morning when I heard from Tom Whyte +of what had happened. As we drove up to the fort, I thought how +terrible it would have been if you had been killed; and then the happy +days we have spent together rushed into my mind, and I thought of the +willow creek where we used to fish for gold eyes, and the spot in the +woods where we have so often chased the little birds, and the lake in +the prairies where we used to go in spring to watch the water-fowl +sporting in the sunshine. When I recalled these things, Charley, and +thought of you as dead, I felt as if I should die too. And when I came +here and found that my fears were needless, that you were alive and +safe, and almost well, I felt thankful—yes, very, very thankful—to God +for sparing your life, my dear, dear Charley.” And Kate laid her head +on his bosom and sobbed, when she thought of what might have been, as +if her very heart would break. + +Charley’s disposition to levity entirely vanished while his sister +spoke; and twining his tough little arm round her neck, he pressed her +fervently to his heart. + +“Bless you, Kate,” he said at length. “I am indeed thankful to God, not +only for sparing my life, but for giving me such a darling sister to +live for. But now, Kate, tell me, what do you think of father’s +determination to have me placed in the office here?” + +“Indeed, I think it’s very hard. Oh, I do wish _so_ much that I could +do it for you,” said Kate with a sigh. + +“Do _what_ for me?” asked Charley. + +“Why, the office work,” said Kate. + +“Tuts! fiddlesticks! But isn’t it, now, really a _very_ hard case?” + +“Indeed it is; but, then, what can you do?” + +“Do?” said Charley impatiently; “run away to be sure.” + +“Oh, don’t speak of that!” said Kate anxiously. “You know it will kill +our beloved mother; and then it would grieve father very much.” + +“Well, father don’t care much about grieving me, when he hunted me down +like a wolf till I nearly broke my neck.” + +“Now, Charley, you must not speak so. Father loves you tenderly, +although he _is_ a little rough at times. If you only heard how kindly +he speaks of you to our mother when you are away, you could not think +of giving him so much pain. And then the Bible says, ‘Honour thy father +and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord +thy God giveth thee;’ and as God speaks in the Bible, _surely_ we +should pay attention to it!” + +Charley was silent for a few seconds; then heaving a deep sigh, he +said,— + +“Well, I believe you’re right, Kate; but then, what am I to do? If I +don’t run away, I must live, like poor Harry Somerville, on a +long-legged stool; and if I do _that_, I’ll—I’ll—” + +As Charley spoke, the door opened, and his father entered. + +“Well, my boy,” said he, seating himself on the bedside and taking his +son’s hand, “how goes it now? Head getting all right again? I fear that +Kate has been talking too much to you.—Is it so, you little +chatterbox?” + +Mr. Kennedy parted Kate’s clustering ringlets and kissed her forehead. + +Charley assured his father that he was almost well, and much the better +of having Kate to tend him. In fact, he felt so much revived that he +said he would get up and go out for a walk. + +“Had I not better tell Tom Whyte to saddle the young horse for you?” +said his father, half ironically. “No, no, boy; lie still where you are +to-day, and get up if you feel better to-morrow. In the meantime, I’ve +come to say good-bye, as I intend to go home to relieve your mother’s +anxiety about you. I’ll see you again, probably, the day after +to-morrow. Hark you, boy; I’ve been talking your affairs over again +with Mr. Grant, and we’ve come to the conclusion to give you a run in +the woods for a time. You’ll have to be ready to start early in spring +with the first brigades for the north. So adieu!” + +Mr. Kennedy patted him on the head, and hastily left the room. + +A burning blush of shame arose on Charley’s cheek as he recollected his +late remarks about his father; and then, recalling the purport of his +last words, he sent forth an exulting shout as he thought of the coming +spring. + +“Well now, Charley,” said Kate, with an arch smile, “let us talk +seriously over your arrangements for running away.” + +Charley replied by seizing the pillow and throwing it at his sister’s +head; but being accustomed to such eccentricities, she anticipated the +movement and evaded the blow. + +“Ah, Charley,” cried Kate, laughing, “you mustn’t let your hand get out +of practice! That was a shockingly bad shot for a man thirsting to +become a bear and buffalo hunter!” + +“I’ll make my fortune at once,” cried Charley, as Kate replaced the +pillow, “build a wooden castle on the shores of Great Bear Lake, take +you to keep house for me, and when I’m out hunting you’ll fish for +whales in the lake; and we’ll live there to a good old age; so +good-night, Kate dear, and go to bed.” + +Kate laughed, gave her brother a parting kiss, and left him. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Spring and the voyageurs. + + +Winter, with its snow and its ice: winter, with its sharp winds and +white drifts; winter, with its various characteristic occupations and +employments, is past, and it is spring now. + +The sun no longer glitters on fields of white; the woodman’s axe is no +longer heard hacking the oaken billets, to keep alive the roaring +fires. That inexpressibly cheerful sound the merry chime of +sleigh-bells, that tells more of winter than all other sounds together, +is no longer heard on the bosom of Red River; for the sleighs are +thrown aside as useless lumber—carts and gigs have supplanted them. The +old Canadian, who used to drive the ox with its water-barrel to the +ice-hole for his daily supply, has substituted a small cart with wheels +for the old sleigh that used to glide so smoothly over the snow, and +_grit_ so sharply on it in the more than usually frosty mornings in the +days gone by. The trees have lost their white patches, and the clumps +of willows, that used to look like islands in the prairie, have +disappeared, as the carpeting that gave them prominence has dissolved. +The aspect of everything in the isolated settlement has changed. The +winter is gone, and spring—bright, beautiful, hilarious spring—has come +again. + +By those who have never known an arctic winter, the delights of an +arctic spring can never, we fear, be fully appreciated or understood. +Contrast is one of its strongest elements; indeed, we might say, _the_ +element which gives to all the others peculiar zest. Life in the arctic +regions is like one of Turner’s pictures, in which the lights are +strong, the shadows deep, and the _tout ensemble_ hazy and romantic. So +cold and prolonged is the winter, that the first mild breath of spring +breaks on the senses like a zephyr from the plains of Paradise. +Everything bursts suddenly into vigorous life, after the long, +death-like sleep of Nature; as little children burst into the romping +gaieties of a new day, after the deep repose of a long and tranquil +night. The snow melts, the ice breaks up, and rushes in broken masses, +heaving and tossing in the rising floods, that grind and whirl them +into the ocean, or into those great fresh-water lakes that vie with +ocean itself in magnitude and grandeur. The buds come out and the +leaves appear, clothing all nature with a bright refreshing green, +which derives additional brilliancy from sundry patches of snow, that +fill the deep creeks and hollows everywhere, and form ephemeral +fountains whose waters continue to supply a thousand rills for many a +long day, until the fierce glare of the summer sun prevails at last and +melts them all away. + +Red River flows on now to mix its long-pent-up waters with Lake +Winnipeg. Boats are seen rowing about upon its waters, as the settlers +travel from place to place; and wooden canoes, made of the hollowed-out +trunks of large trees, shoot across from shore to shore—these canoes +being a substitute for bridges, of which there are none, although the +settlement lies on both sides of the river. Birds have now entered upon +the scene, their wild cries and ceaseless flight adding to it a +cheerful activity. Ground squirrels pop up out of their holes to bask +their round, fat, beautifully-striped little bodies in the sun, or to +gaze in admiration at the farmer, as he urges a pair of _very_ +slow-going oxen, that drag the plough at a pace which induces one to +believe that the wide field _may_ possibly be ploughed up by the end of +next year. Frogs whistle in the marshy grounds so loudly that men new +to the country believe they are being regaled by the songs of millions +of birds. There is no mistake about their _whistle_. It is not merely +_like_ a whistle, but it _is_ a whistle, shrill and continuous; and as +the swamps swarm with these creatures, the song never ceases for a +moment, although each individual frog creates only _one_ little gush of +music, composed of half-a-dozen trills, and then stops a moment for +breath before commencing the second bar. Bull-frogs, too, though not so +numerous, help to vary the sound by croaking vociferously, as if they +understood the value of bass, and were glad of having an opportunity to +join in the universal hum of life and joy which rises everywhere, from +the river and the swamp, the forest and the prairie, to welcome back +the spring. + +Such was the state of things in Red River one beautiful morning in +April, when a band of voyageurs lounged in scattered groups about the +front gate of Fort Garry. They were as fine a set of picturesque, manly +fellows as one could desire to see. Their mode of life rendered them +healthy, hardy, arid good-humoured, with a strong dash of +recklessness—perhaps too much of it—in some of the younger men. Being +descended, generally, from French-Canadian sires and Indian mothers, +they united some of the good and not a few of the bad qualities of +both, mentally as well as physically—combining the light, gay-hearted +spirit and full, muscular frame of the Canadian with the fierce +passions and active habits of the Indian. And this wildness of +disposition was not a little fostered by the nature of their usual +occupations. They were employed during a great part of the year in +navigating the Hudson’s Bay Company’s boats, laden with furs and goods, +through the labyrinth of rivers and lakes that stud and intersect the +whole continent, or they were engaged in pursuit of the bisons,[2] +which roam the prairies in vast herds. + + [2] These animals are always called buffaloes by American hunters and + fur-traders. + + +They were dressed in the costume of the country: most of them wore +light-blue cloth capotes, girded tightly round them’, by scarlet or +crimson worsted belts. Some of them had blue and others scarlet cloth +leggings, ornamented more or less with stained porcupine quills, +coloured silk, or variegated beads; while some might be seen clad in +the leathern coats of winter—deer-skin dressed like chamois leather, +fringed all round with little tails, and ornamented much in the same +way as those already described. The heavy winter moccasins and duffel +socks, which gave to their feet the appearance of being afflicted with +gout, were now replaced by moccasins of a lighter and more elegant +character, having no socks below, and fitting tightly to the feet like +gloves. Some wore hats similar to those made of silk or beaver which +are worn by ourselves in Britain, but so bedizened with scarlet +cock-tail feathers, and silver cords and tassels, as to leave the +original form of the head-dress a matter of great uncertainty. These +hats, however, are only used on high occasions, and chiefly by the +fops. Most of the men wore coarse blue cloth caps with peaks, and not a +few discarded head-pieces altogether, under the impression, apparently, +that nature had supplied a covering which was in itself sufficient. +These costumes varied not only in character but in quality, according +to the circumstances of the wearer; some being highly ornamental and +mended—evincing the felicity of the owner in the possession of a good +wife—while others were soiled and torn, or but slightly ornamented. The +voyageurs were collected, as we have said, in groups. Here stood a +dozen of the youngest—consequently the most noisy and showily +dressed—laughing loudly, gesticulating violently, and bragging +tremendously. Near to them were collected a number of sterner +spirits—men of middle age, with all the energy, and muscle, and bone of +youth, but without its swaggering hilarity; men whose powers and nerves +had been tried over and over again amid the stirring scenes of a +voyageur’s life; men whose heads were cool, and eyes sharp, and hands +ready and powerful, in the mad whirl of boiling rapids, in the sudden +attack of wild beast and hostile man, or in the unexpected approach of +any danger; men who, having been well tried, needed not to boast, and +who, having carried off triumphantly their respective brides many years +ago, needed not to decorate their persons with the absurd finery that +characterised their younger brethren. They were comparatively few in +number, but they composed a sterling band, of which every man was a +hero. Among them were those who occupied the high positions of bowman +and steersman, and when we tell the reader that on these two men +frequently hangs the safety of a boat, with all its crew and lading, it +will be easily understood how needful it is that they should be men of +iron nerve and strength of mind. + +Boat-travelling in those regions is conducted in a way that would +astonish most people who dwell in the civilised quarters of the globe. +The country being intersected in all directions by great lakes and +rivers, these have been adopted as the most convenient highways along +which to convey the supplies and bring back the furs from outposts. +Rivers in America, however, as in other parts of the world, are +distinguished by sudden ebullitions and turbulent points of character, +in the shape of rapids, falls, and cataracts, up and down which neither +men nor boats can by any possibility go with impunity; consequently, on +arriving at such obstructions, the cargoes are carried overland to +navigable water above or below the falls (as the case may be), then the +boats are dragged over and launched, again reloaded, and the travellers +proceed. This operation is called “making a portage;” and as these +portages vary from twelve yards to twelve miles in length, it may be +readily conceived that a voyageur’s life is not an easy one by any +means. + +This, however, is only one of his difficulties. Rapids occur which are +not so dangerous as to make a “portage” necessary, but are sufficiently +turbulent to render the descent of them perilous. In such cases, the +boats, being lightened of part of their cargo, are _run_ down, and +frequently they descend with full cargoes and crews. It is then that +the whole management of each boat devolves upon its bowman and +steersman. The rest of the crew, or _middlemen_ as they are called, +merely sit still and look on, or give a stroke with their oars if +required; while the steersman, with powerful sweeps of his heavy oar, +directs the flying boat as it bounds from surge to surge like a thing +of life; and the bowman stands erect in front to assist in directing +his comrade at the stern, having a strong and long pole in his hands, +with which, ever and anon, he violently forces the boat’s head away +from sunken rocks, against which it might otherwise strike and be stove +in, capsized, or seriously damaged. + +Besides the groups already enumerated, there were one or two others, +composed of grave, elderly men, whose wrinkled brows, gray hairs, and +slow, quiet step, showed that the strength of their days was past; +although their upright figures and warm brown complexions gave promise +of their living to see many summers still. These were the principal +steersmen and old guides—men of renown, to whom the others bowed as +oracles or looked up to as fathers; men whose youth and manhood had +been spent in roaming the trackless wilderness, and who were, +therefore, eminently qualified to guide brigades through the length and +breadth of the land; men whose power of threading their way among the +perplexing intricacies of the forest had become a second nature, a kind +of instinct, that was as sure of attaining its end as the instinct of +the feathered tribes, which brings the swallow, after a long absence, +with unerring certainty back to its former haunts again in spring. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +The store. + + +At whatever establishment in the fur-trader’s dominions you may chance +to alight you will find a particular building which is surrounded by a +halo of interest; towards which there seems to be a general leaning on +the part of everybody, especially of the Indians; and with which are +connected, in the minds of all, the most stirring reminiscences and +pleasing associations. + +This is the trading-store. It is always recognisable, if natives are in +the neighbourhood, by the bevy of red men that cluster round it, +awaiting the coming of the storekeeper or the trader with that stoic +patience which is peculiar to Indians. It may be further recognised, by +a close observer, by the soiled condition of its walls occasioned by +loungers rubbing their backs perpetually against it, and the peculiar +dinginess round the keyhole, caused by frequent applications of the +key, which renders it conspicuous beyond all its comrades. Here is +contained that which makes the red man’s life enjoyable; that which +causes his heart to leap, and induces him to toil for months and months +together in the heat of summer and amid the frost and snow of winter; +that which _actually_ accomplishes, what music is _said_ to achieve, +the “soothing of the savage breast:” in short, here are stored up +blankets, guns, powder, shot, kettles, axes, and knives; twine for +nets, vermilion for war-paint, fishhooks and scalping-knives, capotes, +cloth, beads, needles, and a host of miscellaneous articles, much too +numerous to mention. Here, also occur periodical scenes of bustle and +excitement, when bands of natives arrive from distant hunting-grounds, +laden with rich furs, which are speedily transferred to the Hudson’s +Bay Company’s stores in exchange for the goods aforementioned. And many +a tough wrangle has the trader on such occasions with sharp natives, +who might have graduated in Billingsgate, so close are they at a +bargain. Here, too, voyageurs are supplied with an equivalent for their +wages, part in advance, if they desire it (and they generally do desire +it), and part at the conclusion of their long and arduous voyages. + +It is to one of these stores, reader, that we wish to introduce you +now, that you may witness the men of the North brigade receive their +advances. + +The store at Fort Garry stands on the right of the fort, as you enter +by the front gate. Its interior resembles that of the other stores in +the country, being only a little larger. A counter encloses a space +sufficiently wide to admit a dozen men, and serves to keep back those +who are more eager than the rest. Inside this counter, at the time we +write of, stood our friend, Peter Mactavish, who was the presiding +genius of the scene. + +“Shut the door now, and lock it,” said Peter, in an authoritative tone, +after eight or ten young voyageurs had crushed into the space in front +of the counter. “I’ll not supply you with so much as an ounce of +tobacco if you let in another man.” + +Peter needed not to repeat the command. Three or four stalwart +shoulders were applied to the door, which shut with a bang like a +cannon-shot, and the key was turned. + +“Come now, Antoine,” began the trader, “we’ve lots to do, and not much +time to do it in, so pray look sharp.” + +Antoine, however, was not to be urged on so easily. He had been +meditating deeply all the morning on what he should purchase. Moreover, +he had a sweetheart, and of course he had to buy something for her +before setting out on his travels. Besides, Antoine was six feet high, +and broad shouldered, and well made, with a dark face and glossy black +hair; and he entertained a notion that there were one or two points in +his costume which required to be carefully rectified, ere he could +consider that he had attained to perfection: so he brushed the long +hair off his forehead, crossed his arms, and gazed around him. + +“Come now, Antoine,” said Peter, throwing a green blanket at him; “I +know you want _that_ to begin with. What’s the use of thinking so long +about it, eh? And _that_, too,” he added, throwing him a blue cloth +capote. “Anything else?” + +“Oui, oui, monsieur,” cried Antoine, as he disengaged himself from the +folds of the coat which Peter had thrown over his head. “Tabac, +monsieur, tabac!” + +“Oh, to be sure,” cried Peter. “I might have guessed that _that_ was +uppermost in your mind. Well, how much will you have?” Peter began to +unwind the fragrant weed off a coil of most appalling size and +thickness, which looked like a snake of endless length. “Will that do?” +and he flourished about four feet of the snake before the eyes of the +voyageur. + +Antoine accepted the quantity, and young Harry Somerville entered the +articles against him in a book. + +“Anything more, Antoine?” said the trader. “Ah, some beads and silks, +eh? Oho, Antoine!—By the way, Louis, have you seen Annette lately?” + +Peter turned to another voyageur when he put this question, and the +voyageur gave a broad grin as he replied in the affirmative, while +Antoine looked a little confused. He did not care much, however, for +jesting. So, after getting one or two more articles—not forgetting +half-a-dozen clay pipes, and a few yards of gaudy calico, which called +forth from Peter a second reference to Annette—he bundled up his goods, +and made way for another comrade. + +Louis Peltier, one of the principal guides, and a man of importance +therefore, now stood forward. He was probably about forty-five years of +age; had a plain, olive-coloured countenance, surrounded by a mass of +long jet-black hair, which he inherited, along with a pair of dark, +piercing eyes, from his Indian mother; and a robust, heavy, yet active +frame, which bore a strong resemblance to what his Canadian father’s +had been many years before. His arms, in particular, were of herculean +mould, with large swelling veins and strongly-marked muscles. They +seemed, in fact, just formed for the purpose of pulling the heavy sweep +of an inland boat among strong rapids. His face combined an expression +of stern resolution with great good-humour; and truly his countenance +did not belie him, for he was known among his comrades as the most +courageous and at the same time the most peaceable man in the +settlement. Louis Peltier was singular in possessing the latter +quality, for assuredly the half-breeds, whatever other good points they +boast, cannot lay claim to very gentle or dove-like dispositions. His +grey capote and blue leggings were decorated with no unusual ornaments, +and the scarlet belt which encircled his massive figure was the only +bit of colour he displayed. + +The younger men fell respectfully into the rear as Louis stepped +forward and begged pardon for coming so early in the day. “Mais, +monsieur,” he said, “I have to look after the boats to-day, and get +them ready for a start to-morrow.” + +Peter Mactavish gave Louis a hearty shake of the hand before proceeding +to supply his wants, which were simple and moderate, excepting in the +article of _tabac_, in the use of which he was _im_-moderate, being an +inveterate smoker; so that a considerable portion of the snake had to +be uncoiled for his benefit. + +“Fond as ever of smoking, Louis?” said Peter Mactavish, as he handed +him the coil. + +“Oui, monsieur—very fond,” answered the guide, smelling the weed. “Ah, +this is very good. I must take a good supply this voyage, because I +lost the half of my roll last year;” and the guide gave a sigh as he +thought of the overwhelming bereavement. + +“Lost the half of it, Louis!” said Mactavish. “Why, how was that? You +must have lost _more_ than half your spirits with it!” + +“Ah, oui, I lost _all_ my spirits, and my comrade François at the same +time!” + +“Dear me!” exclaimed the clerk, bustling about the store while the +guide continued to talk. + +“Oui, monsieur, oui. I lost _him_, and my tabac, and my spirits, and +very nearly my life, all in one moment!” + +“Why, how came that about?” said Peter, pausing in his work, and laying +a handful of pipes on the counter. + +“Ah, monsieur, it was very sad (merci, monsieur, merci; thirty pipes, +if you please), and I thought at the time that I should give up my +voyageur life, and remain altogether in the settlement with my old +woman. Mais, monsieur, that was not possible. When I spoke of it to my +old woman, she called _me_ an old woman; and you know, monsieur, that +_two_ old women never could live together in peace for twelve months +under the same roof. So here I am, you see, ready again for the +voyage.” + +The voyageurs, who had drawn round Louis when he alluded to an anecdote +which they had often heard before, but were never weary of hearing over +again, laughed loudly at this sally, and urged the guide to relate the +story to “_monsieur_” who, nothing loath to suspend his operations for +a little, leaned his arms on the counter and said— + +“Tell us all about it, Louis; I am anxious to know how you managed to +come by so many losses all at one time.” + +“Bien, monsieur, I shall soon relate it, for the story is very short.” + +Harry Somerville, who was entering the pipes in Louis’s account, had +just set down the figures “30” when Louis cleared his throat to begin. +Not having the mental fortitude to finish the line, he dropped his pen, +sprang off his stool, which he upset in so doing, jumped up, +sitting-ways, upon the counter, and gazed with breathless interest into +the guide’s face as he spoke. + +“It was on a cold, wet afternoon,” said Louis, “that we were descending +the Hill River, at a part of the rapids where there is a sharp bend in +the stream, and two or three great rocks that stand up in front of the +water, as it plunges over a ledge, as if they were put there a purpose +to catch it, and split it up into foam, or to stop the boats and canoes +that try to run the rapids, and cut them up into splinters. It was an +ugly place, monsieur, I can tell you; and though I’ve run it again and +again, I always hold my breath tighter when we get to the top, and +breathe freer when we get to the bottom. Well, there was a chum of mine +at the bow, Francois by name, and a fine fellow he was as I ever came +across. He used to sleep with me at night under the same blanket, +although it was somewhat inconvenient; for being as big as myself and a +stone heavier, it was all we could do to make the blanket cover us. +However, he and I were great friends, and we managed it somehow. Well, +he was at the bow when we took the rapids, and a first-rate bowman he +made. His pole was twice as long and twice as thick as any other pole +in the boat, and he twisted it about just like a fiddlestick. I +remember well the night before we came to the rapids, as he was sitting +by the fire, which was blazing up among the pine-branches that overhung +us, he said that he wanted a good pole for the rapids next day; and +with that he jumped up, laid hold of an axe, and went back into the +woods a bit to get one. When he returned, he brought a young tree on +his shoulder, which he began to strip of its branches, and bark. +‘Louis,’ says he, ‘this is hot work; give us a pipe.’ So I rummaged +about for some tobacco, but found there was none left in my bag; so I +went to my kit and got out my roll, about three fathoms or so, and +cutting half of it off, I went to the fire and twisted it round his +neck by way of a joke, and he said he’d wear it as a necklace all +night, and so he did, too, and forgot to take it off in the morning; +and when we came near the rapids I couldn’t get at my bag to stow it +away, so says I, ‘Francois, you’ll have to run with it on, for I can’t +stop to stow it now.’ ‘All right,’ says he, ‘go ahead;’ and just as he +said it, we came in sight of the first run, foaming and boiling like a +kettle of robbiboo. ‘Take care, lads,’ I cried, and the next moment we +were dashing down towards the bend in the river. As we came near to the +shoot, I saw Francois standing up on the gunwale to get a better view +of the rocks ahead, and every now and then giving me a signal with his +hand how to steer; suddenly he gave a shout, and plunged his long pole +into the water, to fend off from a rock which a swirl in the stream had +concealed. For a second or two his pole bent like a willow, and we +could feel the heavy boat jerk off a little with the tremendous strain, +but all at once the pole broke off short with a crack, Francois’ heels +made a flourish in the air, and then he disappeared head foremost into +the foaming water, with my tobacco coiled round his neck! As we flew +past the place, one of his arms appeared, and I made a grab at it, and +caught him by the sleeve; but the effort upset myself and over I went +too. Fortunately, however, one of my men caught me by the foot, and +held on like a vice; but the force of the current tore Francois’ sleeve +out of my grasp, and I was dragged into the boat again just in time to +see my comrade’s legs and arms going like the sails of a windmill, as +he rolled over several times and disappeared. Well, we put ashore the +moment we got into still water, and then five or six of us started off +on foot to look for Francois. After half-an-hour’s search, we found him +pitched upon a flat rock in the middle of the stream like a bit of +driftwood, We immediately waded out to the rock and brought him ashore, +where we lighted a fire, took off all his clothes, and rubbed him till +he began to show signs of life again. But you may judge, mes garçons, +of my misery when I found that the coil of tobacco was gone. It had +come off his neck during his struggles, and there wasn’t a vestige of +it left, except a bright red mark on the throat, where it had nearly +strangled him. When he began to recover, he put his hand up to his neck +as if feeling for something, and muttered faintly, ‘The tabac.’ ‘Ah, +morbleu!’ said I, ‘you may say that! Where is it?’ Well, we soon +brought him round, but he had swallowed so much water that it damaged +his lungs, and we had to leave him at the next post we came to; and so +I lost my friend too.” + +“Did Francois get better?” said Charley Kennedy, in a voice of great +concern. + +Charley had entered the store by another door, just as the guide began +his story, and had listened to it unobserved with breathless interest. + +“Recover! Oh oui, monsieur, he soon got well again.’ + +“Oh, I’m so glad,” cried Charley. + +“But I lost him for that voyage,” added the guide; “and I lost my tabac +for ever.” + +“You must take better care of it this time, Louis,” said Peter +Mactavish, as he resumed his work. + +“That I shall, monsieur,” replied Louis, shouldering his goods and +quitting the store, while a short, slim, active little Canadian took +his place. + +“Now, then, Baptiste,” said Mactavish, “you want a—” + +“Blanket, monsieur,” + +“Good. And—” + +“A capote, monsieur.” + +“And—” + +“An axe—” + +“Stop, stop!” shouted Harry Somerville from his desk. “Here’s an entry +in Louis’s account that I can’t make out—30 something or other; what +can it have been?” + +“How often,” said Mactavish, going up to him with a look of +annoyance—“how often have I told you, Mr. Somerville, not to leave an +entry half-finished on any account!” + +“I didn’t know that I left it so,” said Harry, twisting his features, +and scratching his head in great perplexity. “What _can_ it have been? +30—30—not blankets, eh?” (Harry was becoming banteringly bitter.) “He +couldn’t have got thirty guns, could he? or thirty knives, or thirty +copper kettles?” + +“Perhaps it was thirty pounds of tea,” suggested Charley. + +“No doubt it was thirty _pipes_,” said Peter Mactavish. + +“Oh, that was it!” cried Harry, “that was it! thirty pipes, to be sure. +What an ass I am!” + +“And pray what is _that_?” said Mactavish, pointing sarcastically to an +entry in the previous account—“_5 yards of superfine Annette_. Really, +Mr. Somerville, I wish you would pay more attention to your work and +less to the conversation.” + +“Oh dear!” cried Harry, becoming almost hysterical under the combined +effects of chagrin at making so many mistakes, and suppressed merriment +at the idea of selling Annettes by the yard. “Oh, dear me—” + +Harry could say no more, but stuffed his handkerchief into his mouth +and turned away. + +“Well, sir,” said the offended Peter, “when you have laughed to your +entire satisfaction, we will go on with our work, if you please.” + +“All right,” cried Harry, suppressing his feelings with a strong +effort; “what next?” + +Just then a tall, raw-boned man entered the store, and rudely thrusting +Baptiste aside, asked if he could get his supplies now. + +“No,” said Mactavish, sharply; “you’ll take your turn like the rest.” + +The new-comer was a native of Orkney, a country from which, and the +neighbouring islands, the Fur Company almost exclusively recruits its +staff of labourers. These men are steady, useful servants, although +inclined to be slow and lazy _at first_; but they soon get used to the +country, and rapidly improve under the example of the active Canadians +and half-breeds with whom they associate; some of them are the best +servants the Company possess. Hugh Mathison, however, was a very bad +specimen of the race, being rough and coarse in his manners, and very +lazy withal. Upon receiving the trader’s answer, Hugh turned sulkily on +his heel and strode towards the door. Now, it happened that Baptiste’s +bundle lay just behind him, and on turning to leave the place, he +tripped over it and stumbled, whereat the voyageurs burst into an +ironical laugh (for Hugh was not a favourite). + +“Confound your trash!” he cried, giving the little bundle a kick that +scattered everything over the floor. + +“Crapaud!” said Baptiste, between his set teeth, while his eyes flashed +angrily, and he stood up before Hugh with clinched fists, “what mean +you by that, eh?” + +The big Scotchman held his little opponent in contempt; so that, +instead of putting himself on the defensive, he leaned his back against +the door, thrust his hands into his pockets, and requested to know +“what that was to him.” + +Baptiste was not a man of many words, and this reply, coupled with the +insolent sneer with which it was uttered, caused him to plant a sudden +and well-directed blow on the point of Hugh’s nose, which flattened it +on his face, and brought the back of his head into violent contact with +the door. + +“Well done!” shouted the men; “bravo, Baptiste! _Regardez le nez, mes +enfants!_” + +“Hold!” cried Mactavish, vaulting the counter, and intercepting Hugh, +as he rushed upon his antagonist; “no fighting here, you blackguards! +If you want to do _that,_ go outside the fort;” and Peter, opening the +door, thrust the Orkneyman out. + +In the meantime, Baptiste gathered up his goods and left the store, in +company with several of his friends, vowing that he would wreak his +vengeance on the “gros chien” before the sun should set. + +He had not long to wait, however, for just outside the gate he found +Hugh, still smarting under the pain and indignity of the blow, and +ready to pounce upon him like a cat on a mouse. + +Baptiste instantly threw down his bundle, and prepared for battle by +discarding his coat. + +Every nation has its own peculiar method of fighting, and its own ideas +of what is honourable and dishonourable in combat. The English, as +everyone knows, have particularly stringent rules regarding the part of +the body which may or may not be hit with propriety, and count it foul +disgrace to strike a man when he is down, although, by some strange +perversity of reasoning, they deem it right and fair to _fall_ upon him +while in this helpless condition, and burst him if possible. The +Scotchman has less of the science, and we are half inclined to believe +that he would go the length of kicking a fallen opponent; but on this +point we are not quite positive. In regard to the style adopted by the +half-breeds, however, we have no doubt. They fight _any_ way and +_every_ way, without reference to rules at all; and really, although we +may bring ourselves into contempt by admitting the fact, we think they +are quite right. No doubt the best course of action is _not_ to fight; +but if a man does find it _necessary_ to do so, surely the wisest plan +is to get it over at once (as the dentist suggested to his timorous +patient), and to do it in the most effectual manner. + +Be this as it may, Baptiste flew at Hugh, and alighted upon him, not +head first, or fist first, or feet first, or _anything_ first, but +altogether—in a heap as it were; fist, feet, knees, nails, and teeth, +all taking effect at one and the same time, with a force so +irresistible that the next moment they both rolled in the dust +together. + +For a minute or so they struggled and kicked like a couple of serpents, +and then, bounding to their feet again, they began to perform a +war-dance round each other, revolving their fists at the same time in, +we presume, the most approved fashion. Owing to his bulk and natural +laziness, which rendered jumping about like a jack-in-the-box +impossible, Hugh Mathison preferred to stand on the defensive; while +his lighter opponent, giving way to the natural bent of his mercurial +temperament and corporeal predilections, comported himself in a manner +that cannot be likened to anything mortal or immortal, human or +inhuman, unless it be to an insane cat, whose veins ran wild-fire +instead of blood. Or perhaps we might liken him to that ingenious piece +of firework called a zigzag cracker, which explodes with unexpected and +repeated suddenness, changing its position in a most perplexing manner +at every crack. Baptiste, after the first onset, danced backwards with +surprising lightness, glaring at his adversary the while, and rapidly +revolving his fists as before mentioned; then a terrific yell was +heard; his head, arms, and legs became a sort of whirling conglomerate; +the spot on which he danced was suddenly vacant, and at the same moment +Mathison received a bite, a scratch, a dab on the nose, and a kick on +the stomach all at once. Feeling that it was impossible to plant a +well-directed blow on such an assailant, he waited for the next +onslaught; and the moment he saw the explosive object flying through +the air towards him, he met it with a crack of his heavy fist, which, +happening to take effect in the middle of the chest, drove it backwards +with about as much velocity as it had approached, and poor Baptiste +measured his length on the ground. + +“Oh, pauvre chien!” cried the spectators, “c’est fini!” + +“Not yet,” cried Baptiste, as he sprang with a scream to his feet +again, and began his dance with redoubled energy, just as if all that +had gone before was a mere sketch—a sort of playful rehearsal, as it +were, of what was now to follow. At this moment Hugh stumbled over a +canoe-paddle, and fell headlong into Baptiste’s arms, as he was in the +very act of making one of his violent descents. This unlooked-for +occurrence brought them both to a sudden pause, partly from necessity +and partly from surprise. Out of this state Baptiste recovered first, +and taking advantage of the accident, threw Mathison heavily to the +ground. He rose quickly, however, and renewed the light with freshened +vigour. + +Just at this moment a passionate growl was heard, and old Mr. Kennedy +rushed out of the fort in a towering rage. + +Now Mr. Kennedy had no reason whatever for being angry. He was only a +visitor at the fort, and so had no concern in the behaviour of those +connected with it. He was not even in the Company’s service now, and +could not, therefore, lay claim, as one of its officers, to any right +to interfere with its men. But Mr. Kennedy never acted much from +reason; impulse was generally his guiding-star. He had, moreover, been +an absolute monarch, and a commander of men, for many years past in his +capacity of fur-trader. Being, as we have said, a powerful, fiery man, +he had ruled very much by means of brute force—a species of suasion, by +the way, which is too common among many of the gentlemen (?) in the +employment of the Hudson’s Bay Company. On hearing, therefore, that the +men were fighting in front of the fort, Mr. Kennedy rushed out in a +towering rage. + +“Oh, you precious blackguards!” he cried, running up to the combatants, +while with flashing eyes he gazed first at one and then at the other, +as if uncertain on which to launch his ire. “Have you no place in the +world to fight but _here_? eh, blackguards?” + +“O monsieur,” said Baptiste, lowering his hands, and assuming that +politeness of demeanour which seems inseparable from French blood, +however much mixed with baser fluid, “I was just giving _that dog_ a +thrashing, monsieur.” + +“Go!” cried Mr. Kennedy in a voice of thunder, turning to Hugh, who +still stood in a pugilistic attitude, with very little respect in his +looks. + +Hugh hesitated to obey the order; but Mr. Kennedy continued to advance, +grinding his teeth and working his fingers convulsively, as if he +longed to lay violent hold of the Orkneyman’s swelled nose; so he +retreated in his uncertainty, but still with his face to the foe. As +has been already said, the Assiniboine River flows within a hundred +yards of the gate of Fort Garry. The two men, in their combat, had +approached pretty near to the bank, at a place where it descends +somewhat precipitately into the stream. It was towards this bank that +Hugh Mathison was now retreating, crab fashion, followed by Mr. +Kennedy, and both of them so taken up with each other that neither +perceived the fact until Hugh’s heel struck against a stone just at the +moment that Mr. Kennedy raised his clenched fist in a threatening +attitude. The effect of this combination was to pitch the poor man head +over heels down the bank, into a row of willow bushes, through which, +as he rolled with great speed, he went with a loud crash, and shot head +first, like a startled alligator, into the water, amid a roar of +laughter from his comrades and the people belonging to the fort; most +of whom, attracted by the fight, were now assembled on the banks of the +river. + +Mr. Kennedy’s wrath vanished immediately, and he joined in the +laughter; but his face instantly changed when he beheld Hugh sputtering +in deep water, and heard some one say that he could not swim. + +“What! can’t swim?” he exclaimed, running down the bank to the edge of +the water. Baptiste was before him, however. In a moment he plunged in +up to the neck, stretched forth his arm, grasped Hugh by the hair, and +dragged him to the land. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Farewell to Kate—Departure of the brigade—Charley becomes a voyageur. + + +On the following day at noon, the spot on which the late combat had +taken place became the theatre of a stirring and animated scene. Fort +Garry, and the space between it and the river, swarmed with voyageurs, +dressed in their cleanest, newest, and most brilliant costume. The +large boats for the north, six in number, lay moored to the river’s +bank, laden with bales of furs, and ready to start on their long +voyage. Young men, who had never been on the road before, stood with +animated looks watching the operations of the guides as they passed +critical examination upon their boats, overhauled the oars to see that +they were in good condition, or with crooked knives (a species of +instrument in the use of which voyageurs and natives are very expert) +polished off the top of a mast, the blade of an oar, or the handle of a +tiller. Old men, who had passed their lives in similar occupations, +looked on in silence—some standing with their heads bent on their +bosoms, and an expression of sadness about their faces, as if the scene +recalled some mournful event of their early life, or possibly reminded +them of wild, joyous scenes of other days, when the blood coursed +warmly in their young veins, and the strong muscles sprang lightly to +obey their will; when the work they had to do was hard, and the sleep +that followed it was sound—scenes and days that were now gone by for +ever. Others reclined against the wooden fence, their arms crossed, +their thin white hair waving gently in the breeze, and a kind smile +playing on their sunburned faces, as they observed the swagger and +coxcombry of the younger men, or watched the gambols of several +dark-eyed little children—embryo buffalo-hunters and voyageurs—whose +mothers had brought them to the fort to get a last kiss from papa, and +witness the departure of the boats. + +Several tender scenes were going on in out-of-the-way places—in angles +of the walls and bastions, or behind the gates-between youthful couples +about to be separated for a season. Interesting scenes these of pathos +and pleasantry—a combination of soft glances and affectionate fervent +assurances; alternate embraces (that were _apparently_ received with +reluctance, but _actually_ with delight, and proffers of pieces of +calico and beads and other trinkets (received both _apparently_ and +_actually_ with extreme satisfaction) as souvenirs of happy days that +were past), and pledges of unalterable constancy and bright hope in +days that were yet to come. + +A little apart from the others, a youth and a girl might be seen +sauntering slowly towards the copse beyond the stable. These were +Charley Kennedy and his sister Kate, who had retired from the bustling +scene to take a last short walk together, ere they separated, it might +be for years, perhaps for ever! Charley held Kate’s hand, while her +sweet little head rested on his shoulder. + +“O Charley, Charley, my own dear, darling Charley, I’m quite miserable, +and you ought not to go away; it’s very wrong, and I don’t mind a bit +what you say, I shall die if you leave me!” And Kate pressed him +tightly to her heart, and sobbed in the depth of her woe. “Now, Kate, +my darling, don’t go on so! You know I can’t help it—” + +“I _don’t_ know,” cried Kate, interrupting him, and speaking +vehemently—“I don’t know, and I don’t believe, and I don’t care for +anything at all; it’s very hard-hearted of you, and wrong, and not +right, and I’m just quite wretched!” + +Poor Kate was undoubtedly speaking the absolute truth; for a more +disconsolate and wretched look of woebegone misery was never seen on so +sweet and tender and lovable a little face before. Her blue eyes swam +in two lakes of pure crystal, that overflowed continually; her mouth, +which was usually round, had become an elongated oval; and her +nut-brown hair fell in dishevelled masses over her soft cheeks. + +“O Charley,” she continued, “why _won’t_ you stay?” + +“Listen to me, dearest Kate,” said Charley, in a very husky voice. +“It’s too late to draw back now, even if I wished to do so; and you +don’t consider, darling, that I’ll be back again soon. Besides, I’m a +man now, Kate, and I must make my own bread. Who ever heard of a man +being supported by his old father.” + +“Well, but can’t you do that here?” + +“No, don’t interrupt me, Kate,” said Charley, kissing her forehead; +“I’m quite satisfied with _two short_ legs, and have no desire whatever +to make my bread on the top of _three long_ ones. Besides, you know I +can write to you.” + +“But you won’t; you’ll forget.” + +“No, indeed, I will not. I’ll write you long letters about all that I +see and do; and you shall write long letters to me about—” + +“Stop, Charley,” cried Kate; “I won’t listen to you. I hate to think of +it.” + +And her tears burst forth again with fresh violence. This time +Charley’s heart sank too. The lump in his throat all but choked him; so +he was fain to lay his head upon Kate’s heaving bosom, and weep along +with her. + +For a few minutes they remained silent, when a slight rustling in the +bushes was heard. In another moment a tall, broad-shouldered, +gentlemanly man, dressed in black, stood before them. Charley and Kate, +on seeing this personage, arose, and wiping the tears from their eyes, +gave a sad smile as they shook hands with their clergyman. + +“My poor children,” said Mr. Addison, affectionately, “I know well why +your hearts are sad. May God bless and comfort you! I saw you enter the +wood, and came to bid you farewell, Charley, my dear boy, as I shall +not have another opportunity of doing so.” + +“O dear Mr. Addison,” cried Kate, grasping his hand in both of hers, +and gazing imploringly up at him through a perfect wilderness of +ringlets and tears, “do prevail upon Charley to stay at home; please +do!” + +Mr. Addison could scarcely help smiling at the poor girl’s extreme +earnestness. + +“I fear, my sweet child, that it is too late now to attempt to dissuade +Charley. Besides, he goes with the consent of his father; and I am +inclined to think that a change of life for a _short_ time may do him +good. Come, Kate, cheer up! Charley will return to us again ere long, +improved, I trust, both physically and mentally.” + +Kate did _not_ cheer up, but she dried her eyes, and endeavoured to +look more composed; while Mr. Addison took Charley by the hand, and, as +they walked slowly through the wood, gave him much earnest advice and +counsel. + +The clergyman’s manner was peculiar. With a large, warm, generous +heart, he possessed an enthusiastic nature, a quick, brusque manner, +and a loud voice, which, when his spirit was influenced by the strong +emotions of pity or anxiety for the souls of his flock, sunk into a +deep soft bass of the most thrilling earnestness. He belonged to the +Church of England, but conducted service very much in the Presbyterian +form, as being more suited to his mixed congregation. After a long +conversation with Charley, he concluded by saying— + +“I do not care to say much to you about being kind and obliging to all +whom you may meet with during your travels, nor about the dangers to +which you will be exposed by being thrown into the company of wild and +reckless, perhaps very wicked, men. There is but _one_ incentive to +every good, and _one_ safeguard against all evil, my boy, and that is +the love of God. You may perhaps forget much that I have said to you; +but remember this, Charley, if you would be happy in this world, and +have a good hope for the next, centre your heart’s affection on our +blessed Lord Jesus Christ; for believe me, boy, _His_ heart’s affection +is centred upon you.” + +As Mr. Addison spoke, a loud hello from Mr. Kennedy apprised them that +their time was exhausted, and that the boats were ready to start. +Charley sprang towards Kate, locked her in a long, passionate embrace, +and then, forgetting Mr. Addison altogether in his haste, ran out of +the wood, and hastened towards the scene of departure. + +“Good-bye, Charley!” cried Harry Somerville, running up to his friend +and giving him a warm grasp of the hand. “Don’t forget me, Charley. I +wish I were going with you, with all my heart; but I’m an unlucky dog. +Good-bye.” The senior clerk and Peter Mactavish had also a kindly word +and a cheerful farewell for him as he hurried past. + +“Good-bye, Charley, my lad!” said old Mr. Kennedy, in an _excessively_ +loud voice, as if by such means he intended to crush back some unusual +but very powerful feelings that had a peculiar influence on a certain +lump in his throat. “Good-bye, my lad; don’t forget to write to your +old—Hang it!” said the old man, brushing his coat-sleeve somewhat +violently across his eyes, and turning abruptly round as Charley left +him and sprang into the boat—“I say, Grant, I—I—What are you staring +at, eh?” The latter part of his speech was addressed, in an angry tone, +to an innocent voyageur, who happened accidentally to confront him at +the moment. + +“Come along, Kennedy,” said Mr. Grant, interposing, and grasping his +excited friend by the arm—“come with me.” + +“Ah, to be sure!—yes,” said he, looking over his shoulder and waving a +last adieu to Charley, “Good-bye, God bless you, my dear boy!—I say, +Grant, come along; quick, man, and let’s have a pipe—yes, let’s have a +pipe.” Mr. Kennedy, essaying once more to crush back his rebellious +feelings, strode rapidly up the bank, and entering the house, sought to +overwhelm his sorrow in smoke: in which attempt he failed. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +The voyage—The encampment—A surprise. + + +It was a fine sight to see the boats depart for the north. It was a +thrilling, heart-stirring sight to behold these picturesque, athletic +men, on receiving the word of command from their guides, spring lightly +into the long, heavy boats; to see them let the oars fall into the +water with a loud splash, and then, taking their seats, give way with a +will, knowing that the eyes of friends and sweethearts and rivals were +bent earnestly upon them. It was a splendid sight to see boat after +boat shoot out from the landing-place, and cut through the calm bosom +of the river, as the men bent their sturdy backs until the thick oars +creaked and groaned on the gunwales and flashed in the stream, more and +more vigorously at each successive stroke, until their friends on the +bank, who were anxious to see the last of them, had to run faster and +faster in order to keep up with them, as the rowers warmed at their +work, and made the water gurgle at the bows—their bright blue and +scarlet and white trappings reflected in the dark waters in broken +masses of colour, streaked with long lines of shining ripples, as if +they floated on a lake of liquid rainbows. And it was a glorious thing +to hear the wild, plaintive song, led by one clear, sonorous voice, +that rang out full and strong in the still air, while at the close of +every two lines the whole brigade burst into a loud, enthusiastic +chorus, that rolled far and wide over the smooth waters—telling of +their approach to settlers beyond the reach of vision in advance, and +floating faintly back, a last farewell, to the listening ears of +fathers, mothers, wives, and sisters left behind. And it was +interesting to observe how, as the rushing boats sped onwards past the +cottages on shore, groups of men and women and children stood before +the open doors and waved adieu, while ever and anon a solitary voice +rang louder than the others in the chorus, and a pair of dark eyes grew +brighter as a voyageur swept past his home, and recognised his little +ones screaming farewell, and seeking to attract their _sire’s_ +attention by tossing their chubby arms or flourishing round their heads +the bright vermilion blades of canoe-paddles. It was interesting, too, +to hear the men shout as they ran a small rapid which occurs about the +lower part of the settlement, and dashed in full career up to the Lower +Fort—which stands about twenty miles down the river from Fort Garry—and +then sped onward again with unabated energy, until they passed the +Indian settlement, with its scattered wooden buildings and its small +church; passed the last cottage on the bank; passed the low swampy land +at the river’s mouth; and emerged at last as evening closed, upon the +wide, calm, sea-like bosom of Lake Winnipeg. + +Charley saw and heard all this during the whole of that long, exciting +afternoon, and as he heard and saw it his heart swelled as if it would +burst its prison-bars, his voice rang out wildly in the choruses, +regardless alike of tune and time, and his spirit boiled within him as +he quaffed the first sweet draught of a rover’s life—a life in the +woods, the wild, free, enchanting woods, where all appeared in _his_ +eyes bright, and sunny, and green, and beautiful! + +As the sun’s last rays sunk in the west, and the clouds, losing their +crimson hue, began gradually to fade into gray, the boats’ heads were +turned landward. In a few seconds they grounded on a low point, covered +with small trees and bushes which stretched out into the lake. Here +Louis Peltier had resolved to bivouac for the night. + +“Now then, mes garçons,” he exclaimed, leaping ashore, and helping to +drag the boat a little way on to the beach, “vite, vite! à terre, à +terre!—Take the kettle, Pierre, and let’s have supper.” + +Pierre needed no second bidding. He grasped a large tin kettle and an +axe, with which he hurried into a clump of trees. Laying down the +kettle, which he had previously filled with water from the lake, he +singled out a dead tree, and with three powerful blows of his axe, +brought it to the ground. A few additional strokes cut it up into logs, +varying from three to five feet in length, which he piled together, +first placing a small bundle of dry grass and twigs beneath them, and a +few splinters of wood which he cut from off one of the logs. Having +accomplished this, Pierre took a flint and steel out of a gaily +ornamented pouch which depended from his waist, and which went by the +name of a fire-bag in consequence of its containing the implements for +procuring that element. It might have been as appropriately named +tobacco-box or smoking-bag, however, seeing that such things had more +to do with it, if possible, than fire. Having struck a spark, which he +took captive by means of a piece of tinder, he placed in the centre of +a very dry handful of soft grass, and whirled it rapidly round his +head, thereby producing a current of air, which blew the spark into a +flame; which when applied, lighted the grass and twigs; and so, in a +few minutes, a blazing fire roared up among the trees—spouted volumes +of sparks into the air, like a gigantic squib, which made it quite a +marvel that all the bushes in the neighbourhood were not burnt up at +once—glared out red and fierce upon the rippling water, until it +became, as it were, red-hot in the neighbourhood of the boats, and +caused the night to become suddenly darker by contrast; the night +reciprocating the compliment, as it grew later, by causing the space +around the fire to glow brighter and brighter, until it became a +brilliant chamber, surrounded by walls of the blackest ebony. + +While Pierre was thus engaged there were at least ten voyageurs +similarly occupied. Ten steels were made instrumental in creating ten +sparks, which were severally captured by ten pieces of tinder, and +whirled round by ten lusty arms, until ten flames were produced, and +ten fires sprang up and flared wildly on the busy scene that had a few +hours before been so calm, so solitary, and so peaceful, bathed in the +soft beams of the setting sun. + +In less than half-an-hour the several camps were completed, the kettles +boiling over the fires, the men smoking in every variety of attitude, +and talking loudly. It was a cheerful scene; and so Charley thought as +he reclined in his canvas tent, the opening of which faced the fire, +and enabled him to see all that was going on. + +Pierre was standing over the great kettle, dancing round it, and making +sudden plunges with a stick into it, in the desperate effort to stir +its boiling contents—desperate, because the fire was very fierce and +large, and the flames seem to take a fiendish pleasure in leaping up +suddenly just under Pierre’s nose, thereby endangering his beard, or +shooting out between his legs and licking round them at most unexpected +moments, when the light wind ought to have been blowing them quite in +the opposite direction; and then, as he danced round to the other side +to avoid them, wheeling about and roaring viciously in his face, until +it seemed as if the poor man would be roasted long before the supper +was boiled. Indeed, what between the ever-changing and violent flames, +the rolling smoke, the steam from the kettle, the showering sparks, and +the man’s own wild grimaces and violent antics, Pierre seemed to +Charley like a raging demon, who danced not only round, but above, and +on, and through, and _in_ the flames, as if they were his natural +element, in which he took special delight. + +Quite close to the tent the massive form of Louis the guide lay +extended, his back supported by the stump of a tree, his eyes blinking +sleepily at the blaze, and his beloved pipe hanging from his lips, +while wreaths of smoke encircled his head. Louis’s day’s work was done. +Few could do a better; and when his work was over, Louis always acted +on the belief that his position and his years entitled him to rest, and +took things very easy in consequence. + +Six of the boat’s crew sat in a semicircle beside the guide and +fronting the fire, each paying particular attention to his pipe, and +talking between the puffs to anyone who chose to listen. + +Suddenly Pierre vanished into the smoke and flames altogether, whence +in another moment he issued, bearing in his hand the large tin kettle, +which he deposited triumphantly at the feet of his comrades. + +“Now, then,” cried Pierre. + +It was unnecessary to have said even that much by way of invitation. +Voyageurs do not require to have their food pressed upon them after a +hard day’s work. Indeed it was as much as they could do to refrain from +laying violent hands on the kettle long before their worthy cook +considered its contents sufficiently done. + +Charley sat in company with Mr. Park—a chief factor, on his way to +Norway House. Gibault, one of the men who acted as their servant, had +placed a kettle of hot tea before them, which, with several slices of +buffalo tongue, a lump of pemmican, and some hard biscuit and butter, +formed their evening meal. Indeed, we may add that these viands, during +a great part of the voyage, constituted their every meal. In fact, they +had no variety in their fare, except a wild duck or two now and then, +and a goose when they chanced to shoot one. + +Charley sipped a pannikin of tea as he reclined on his blanket, and +being somewhat fatigued in consequence of his exertions and excitement +during the day, said nothing. Mr. Park, for the same reasons, besides +being naturally taciturn, was equally mute, so they both enjoyed in +silence the spectacle of the men eating their supper. And it _was_ a +sight worth seeing. + +Their food consisted of robbiboo, a compound of flour, pemmican, and +water, boiled to the consistency of very thick soup. Though not a +species of food that would satisfy the fastidious taste of an epicure, +robbiboo is, nevertheless, very wholesome, exceedingly nutritious, and +withal palatable. Pemmican, its principal component, is made of buffalo +flesh, which fully equals (some think greatly excels) beef. The recipe +for making it is as follows:-First, kill your buffalo—a matter of +considerable difficulty, by the way, as doing so requires you to travel +to the buffalo-grounds, to arm yourself with a gun, and mount a horse, +on which you have to gallop, perhaps, several miles over rough ground +and among badger-holes at the imminent risk of breaking your neck. Then +you have to run up alongside of a buffalo and put a ball through his +heart, which, apart from the murderous nature of the action, is a +difficult thing to do. But we will suppose that you have killed your +buffalo. Then you must skin him; then cut him up, and slice the flesh +into layers, which must be dried in the sun. At this stage of the +process you have produced a substance which in the fur countries goes +by the name of dried meat, and is largely used as an article of food. +As its name implies, it is very dry, and it is also very tough, and +very undesirable if one can manage to procure anything better. But to +proceed. Having thus prepared dried meat, lay a quantity of it on a +flat stone, and take another stone, with which pound it into shreds. +You must then take the animal’s hide, while it is yet new, and make +bags of it about two feet and a half long by a foot and a half broad. +Into this put the pounded meat loosely. Melt the fat of your buffalo +over a fire, and when quite liquid pour it into the bag until full; mix +the contents well together; sew the whole up before it cools, and you +have a bag of pemmican of about ninety pounds weight. This forms the +chief food of the voyageur, in consequence of its being the largest +possible quantity of sustenance compressed into the smallest possible +space, and in an extremely convenient, portable shape. It will keep +fresh for years, and has been much used, in consequence, by the heroes +of arctic discovery, in their perilous journeys along the shores of the +frozen sea. + +The voyageurs used no plate. Men who travel in these countries become +independent of many things that are supposed to be necessary here. They +sat in a circle round the kettle, each man armed with a large wooden or +pewter spoon, with which he ladled the robbiboo down his capacious +throat, in a style that not only caused Charley to laugh, but +afterwards threw him into a deep reverie on the powers of appetite in +general, and the strength of voyageur stomachs in particular. + +At first the keen edge of appetite induced the men to eat in silence; +but as the contents of the kettle began to get low, their tongues +loosened, and at last, when the kettles were emptied and the pipes +filled, fresh logs thrown on the fires, and their limbs stretched out +around them, the babel of English, French, and Indian that arose was +quite overwhelming. The middle-aged men told long stories of what they +_had_ done; the young men boasted of what they _meant_ to do; while the +more aged smiled, nodded, smoked their pipes, put in a word or two as +occasion offered, and listened. While they conversed the quick ears of +one of the men of Charley’s camp detected some unusual sound. + +“Hist!” said he, turning his head aside slightly, in a listening +attitude, while his comrades suddenly ceased their noisy laugh. + +“Do ducks travel in canoes hereabouts?” said the man, after a moment’s +silence; “for, if not, there’s someone about to pay us a visit. I would +wager my best gun that I hear the stroke of paddles.” + +“If your ears had been sharper, François, you might have heard them +some time ago,” said the guide, shaking the ashes out of his pipe and +refilling it for the third time. + +“Ah, Louis, I do not pretend to such sharp ears as you possess, nor to +such sharp wit either. But who do you think can be _en route_ so late?” + +“That my wit does not enable me to divine,” said Louis; “but if you +have any faith in the sharpness of your eyes, I would recommend you to +go to the beach and see, as the best and shortest way of finding out.” + +By this time the men had risen, and were peering out into the gloom in +the direction whence the sound came, while one or two sauntered down to +the margin of the lake to meet the new-comers. + +“Who can it be, I wonder?” said Charley, who had left the tent, and was +now standing beside the guide. + +“Difficult to say, monsieur. Perhaps Injins, though I thought there +were none here just now. But I’m not surprised that we’ve attracted +_something_ to us. Livin’ creeturs always come nat’rally to the light, +and there’s plenty of fire on the point to-night.” + +“Rather more than enough,” replied Charley, abruptly, as a slight +motion of wind sent the flames curling round his head and singed off +his eye-lashes. “Why, Louis, it’s my firm belief that if I ever get to +the end of this journey, I’ll not have a hair left on my head.” + +Louis smiled. + +“O monsieur, you will learn to _observe_ things before you have been +long in the wilderness. If you _will_ edge round to leeward of the +fire, you can’t expect it to respect you.” + +Just at this moment a loud hurrah rang through the copse, and Harry +Somerville sprang over the fire into the arms of Charley, who received +him with a hug and a look of unutterable amazement. + +“Charley, my boy!” + +“Harry Somerville, I declare!” + +For at least five minutes Charley could not recover his composure +sufficiently to _declare_ anything else, but stood with open mouth and +eyes, and elevated eyebrows, looking at his young friend, who capered +and danced round the fire in a manner that threw the cook’s +performances in that line quite into the shade, while he continued all +the time to shout fragments of sentences that were quite unintelligible +to anyone. It was evident that Harry was in a state of immense delight +at something unknown save to himself, but which, in the course of a few +minutes, was revealed to his wondering friends. + +“Charley, I’m _going!_ hurrah!” and he leaped about in a manner that +induced Charley to say he would not only be going but very soon _gone_, +if he did not keep further away from the fire. + +“Yes, Charley, I’m going with you! I upset the stool, tilted the +ink-bottle over the invoice-book, sent the poker almost through the +back of the fireplace, and smashed Tom Whyte’s best whip on the back of +the ‘noo ’oss’ as I galloped him over the plains for the last time: all +for joy, because I’m going with you, Charley, my darling!” + +Here Harry suddenly threw his arms round his friend’s neck, meditating +an embrace. As both boys were rather fond of using their muscles +violently, the embrace degenerated into a wrestle, which caused them to +threaten complete destruction to the fire as they staggered in front of +it, and ended in their tumbling against the tent and nearly breaking +its poles and fastenings, to the horror and indignation of Mr. Park, +who was smoking his pipe within, quietly waiting till Harry’s +superabundant glee was over, that he might get an explanation of his +unexpected arrival among them. + +“Ah, they will be good voyageurs!” cried one of the men, as he looked +on at this scene. + +“Oui, oui! good boys, active lads,” replied the others, laughing. The +two boys rose hastily. + +“Yes,” cried Harry, breathless, but still excited, “I’m going all the +way, and a great deal farther. I’m going to hunt buffaloes in the +Saskatchewan, and grizzly bears in the—the—in fact everywhere! I’m +going down the Mackenzie River—I’m going _mad_, I believe;” and Harry +gave another caper and another shout, and tossed his cap high into the +air. Having been recklessly tossed, it came down into the fire. When it +went in, it was dark blue; but when Harry dashed into the flames in +consternation to save it, it came out of a rich brown colour. + +“Now, youngster,” said Mr. Park, “when you’ve done capering, I should +like to ask you one or two questions. What brought you here?” + +“A canoe,” said Harry, inclined to be impudent. + +“Oh, and pray for what _purpose_ have you come here?” + +“These are my credentials,” handing him a letter. + +Mr. Park opened the note and read. + +“Ah! oh! Saskatchewan—hum—yes—outpost—wild boy—just so—keep him at +it—ay, fit for nothing else. So,” said Mr. Park, folding the paper, “I +find that Mr. Grant has sent you to take the place of a young gentleman +we expected to pick up at Norway House, but who is required elsewhere; +and that he wishes you to see a good deal of rough life—to be made a +trader of, in fact. Is that your desire?” + +“That’s the very ticket!” replied Harry, scarcely able to restrain his +delight at the prospect. + +“Well, then, you had better get supper and turn in, for you’ll have to +begin your new life by rising at three o’clock to-morrow morning. Have +you got a tent?” + +“Yes,” said Harry, pointing to his canoe, which had been brought to the +fire and turned bottom up by the two Indians to whom it belonged, and +who were reclining under its shelter enjoying their pipes, and watching +with looks of great gravity the doings of Harry and his friend. + +“_That_ will return whence it came to-morrow. Have you no other?” + +“Oh yes,” said Harry, pointing to the overhanging branches of a willow +close at hand, “lots more.” + +Mr. Park smiled grimly, and, turning on his heel, re-entered the tent +and continued his pipe, while Harry flung himself down beside Charley +under the bark canoe. + +This species of “tent” is, however, by no means a perfect one. An +Indian canoe is seldom three feet broad—frequently much narrower—so +that it only affords shelter for the body as far down as the waist, +leaving the extremities exposed. True, one _may_ double up as nearly as +possible into half one’s length, but this is not a desirable position +to maintain throughout an entire night. Sometimes, when the weather is +_very_ bad, an additional protection is procured by leaning several +poles against the bottom of the canoe, on the weather side, in such a +way as to slope considerably over the front; and over these are spread +pieces of birch bark or branches and moss, so as to form a screen, +which is an admirable shelter. But this involves too much time and +labour to be adopted during a voyage, and is only done when the +travellers are under the necessity of remaining for some time in one +place. + +The canoe in which Harry arrived was a pretty large one, and looked so +comfortable when arranged for the night that Charley resolved to +abandon his own tent and Mr. Park’s society, and sleep with his friend. + +“I’ll sleep with you, Harry, my boy,” said he, after Harry had +explained to him in detail the cause of his being sent away from Red +River; which was no other than that a young gentleman, as Mr. Park +said, who _was_ to have gone, had been ordered elsewhere. + +“That’s right, Charley; spread out our blankets, while I get some +supper, like a good fellow.” Harry went in search of the kettle while +his friend prepared their bed. First, he examined the ground on which +the canoe lay, and found that the two Indians had already taken +possession of the only level places under it. “Humph!” he ejaculated, +half inclined to rouse them up, but immediately dismissed the idea as +unworthy of a voyageur. Besides, Charley was an amiable, unselfish +fellow, and would rather have lain on the top of a dozen stumps than +have made himself comfortable at the expense of anyone else. + +He paused a moment to consider. On one side was a hollow “that” (as he +soliloquised to himself) “would break the back of a buffalo.” On the +other side were a dozen little stumps surrounding three very prominent +ones, that threatened destruction to the ribs of anyone who should +venture to lie there. But Charley did not pause to consider long. +Seizing his axe, he laid about him vigorously with the head of it, and +in a few seconds destroyed all the stumps, which he carefully +collected, and, along with some loose moss and twigs, put into the +hollow, and so filled it up. Having improved things thus far, he rose +and strode out of the circle of light into the wood. In a few minutes +he reappeared, bearing a young spruce fir tree on his shoulder, which +with the axe he stripped of its branches. These branches were flat in +form, and elastic—admirably adapted for making a bed on; and when +Charley spread them out under the canoe in a pile of about four inches +in depth by four feet broad and six feet long, the stumps and the +hollow were overwhelmed altogether. He then ran to Mr. Park’s tent, and +fetched thence a small flat bundle covered with oilcloth and tied with +a rope. Opening this, he tossed out its contents, which were two large +and very thick blankets—one green, the other white; a particularly +minute feather pillow, a pair of moccasins, a broken comb, and a bit of +soap. Then he opened a similar bundle containing Harry’s bed, which he +likewise tossed out; and then kneeling down, he spread the two white +blankets on the top of the branches, the two green blankets above +these, and the two pillows at the top, as far under the shelter of the +canoe as he could push them. Having completed the whole in a manner +that would have done credit to a chambermaid, he continued to sit on +his knees, with his hands in his pockets, smiling complacently, and +saying, “Capital—first-rate!” + +“Here we are, Charley. Have a second supper—do!” + +Harry placed the smoking kettle by the head of the bed, and squatting +down beside it, began to eat as only a boy _can_ eat who has had +nothing since breakfast. + +Charley attacked the kettle too—as he said, “out of sympathy,” although +he “wasn’t hungry a bit.” And really, for a man who was not hungry, and +had supped half-an-hour before, the appetite of _sympathy_ was +wonderfully strong. + +But Harry’s powers of endurance were now exhausted. He had spent a long +day of excessive fatigue and excitement, and having wound it up with a +heavy supper, sleep began to assail him with a fell ferocity that +nothing could resist. He yawned once or twice, and sat on the bed +blinking unmeaningly at the fire, as if he had something to say to it +which he could not recollect just then. He nodded violently, much to +his own surprise, once or twice, and began to address remarks to the +kettle instead of to his friend. “I say, Charley, this won’t do. I’m +off to bed!” and suiting the action to the word, he took off his coat +and placed it on his pillow. He then removed his moccasins, which were +wet, and put on a dry pair; and this being all that is ever done in the +way of preparation before going to bed in the woods, he lay down and +pulled the green blankets over him. + +Before doing so, however, Harry leaned his head on his hands and +prayed. This was the one link left of the chain of habit with which he +had left home. Until the period of his departure for the wild scenes of +the Northwest, Harry had lived in a quiet, happy home in the West +Highlands of Scotland, where he had been surrounded by the benign +influences of a family the members of which were united by the sweet +bonds of Christian love—bonds which were strengthened by the additional +tie of amiability of disposition. From childhood he had been accustomed +to the routine of a pious and well-regulated household, where the Bible +was perused and spoken of with an interest that indicated a genuine +hungering and thirsting after righteousness, and where the name of +JESUS sounded often and sweetly on the ear. Under such training, Harry, +though naturally of a wild, volatile disposition, was deeply and +irresistibly impressed with a reverence for sacred things, which, now +that he was thousands of miles away from his peaceful home, clung to +him with the force of old habit and association, despite the jeers of +comrades and the evil influences and ungodliness by which he was +surrounded. It is true that he was not altogether unhurt by the +withering indifference to God that he beheld on all sides. Deep +impression is not renewal of heart. But early training in the path of +Christian love saved him many a deadly fall. It guarded him from many +of the grosser sins, into which other boys, who had merely broken away +from the _restraints_ of home too easily fell. It twined round him—as +the ivy encircles the oak—with a soft, tender, but powerful grasp, that +held him back when he was tempted to dash aside all restraint; and held +him up when, in the weakness of human nature, he was about to fall. It +exerted its benign sway over him in the silence of night, when his +thoughts reverted to home, and during his waking hours, when he +wandered from scene to scene in the wide wilderness; and in after +years, when sin prevailed, and intercourse with rough men had worn off +much of at least the superficial amiability of his character, and to +some extent blunted the finer feelings of his nature, it clung faintly +to him still, in the memory of his mother’s gentle look and tender +voice, and never forsook him altogether. Home had a blessed and +powerful influence on Harry. May God bless such homes, where the ruling +power is _love!_ God bless and multiply such homes in the earth! Were +there more of them there would be fewer heart-broken mothers to weep +over the memory of the blooming, manly boys they sent away to foreign +climes—with trembling hearts but high hopes—and never saw them more. +They were vessels launched upon the troubled sea of time, with stout +timbers, firm masts, and gallant sails—with all that was necessary +above and below, from stem to stern, for battling with the billows of +adverse fortune, for stemming the tide of opposition, for riding the +storms of persecution, or bounding with a press of canvas before the +gales of prosperity; but without the rudder—without the guiding +principle that renders the great power of plank and sail and mast +available; with which the vessel moves obedient to the owner’s will, +without which it drifts about with every current, and sails along with +every shifting wind that blows. Yes, may the best blessings of +prosperity and peace rest on such families, whose bread, cast +continually on the waters, returns to them after many days. + +After Harry had lain down, Charley, who did not feel inclined for +repose, sauntered to the margin of the lake, and sat down upon a rock. + +It was a beautiful, calm evening. The moon shone faintly through a mass +of heavy clouds, casting a pale light on the waters of Lake Winnipeg, +which stretched, without a ripple, out to the distant horizon. The +great fresh-water lakes of America bear a strong resemblance to the +sea. In storms the waves rise mountains high, and break with heavy, +sullen roar upon a beach composed in many places of sand and pebbles; +while they are so large that one not only looks out to a straight +horizon, but may even sail _out of sight of land_ altogether. + +As Charley sat resting his head on his hand, and listening to the soft +hiss that the ripples made upon the beach, he felt all the solemnising +influence that steals irresistibly over the mind as we sit on a still +night gazing out upon the moonlit sea. His thoughts were sad; for he +thought of Kate, and his mother and father, and the home he was now +leaving. He remembered all that he had ever done to injure or annoy the +dear ones he was leaving; and it is strange how much alive our +consciences become when we are unexpectedly or suddenly removed from +those with whom we have lived and held daily intercourse. How bitterly +we reproach ourselves for harsh words, unkind actions; and how +intensely we long for one word more with them, one fervent embrace, to +prove at once that all we have ever said or done was not _meant_ ill, +and, at any rate, is deeply, sincerely repented of now! As Charley +looked up into the starry sky, his mind recurred to the parting words +of Mr. Addison. With uplifted hands and a full heart, he prayed that +God would bless, for Jesus’ sake, the beloved ones in Red River, but +especially Kate; for whether he prayed or meditated, Charley’s thoughts +_always_ ended with Kate. + +A black cloud passed across the moon, and reminded him that but a few +hours of the night remained; so hastening up to the camp again, he lay +gently down beside his friend, and drew the green blanket over him. + +In the camp all was silent. The men had chosen their several beds +according to fancy, under the shadow of a bush or tree. The fires had +burned low—so low that it was with difficulty Charley, as he lay, could +discern the recumbent forms of the men, whose presence was indicated by +the deep, soft, regular breathing of tired but, healthy constitutions. +Sometimes a stray moonbeam shot through the leaves and branches, and +cast a ghost-like, flickering light over the scene, which ever and anon +was rendered more mysterious by a red flare of the fire as an ember +fell, blazed up for an instant, and left all shrouded in greater +darkness than before. + +At first Charley continued his sad thoughts, staring all the while at +the red embers of the expiring fire; but soon his eyes began to blink, +and the stumps of trees began to assume the form of voyageurs, and +voyageurs to look like stumps of trees. Then a moonbeam darted in, and +Mr. Addison stood on the other side of the fire. At this sight Charley +started, and Mr. Addison disappeared, while the boy smiled to think how +he had been dreaming while only half asleep. Then Kate appeared, and +seemed to smile on him; but another ember fell, and another red flame +sprang up, and put her to flight too. Then a low sigh of wind rustled +through the branches, and Charley felt sure that he saw Kate again +coming through the woods, singing the low, soft tune that she was so +fond of singing, because it was his own favourite air. But soon the air +ceased; the fire faded away; so did the trees, and the sleeping +voyageurs; Kate last of all dissolved, and Charley sank into a deep, +untroubled slumber. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +Varieties, vexations, and vicissitudes. + + +Life is checkered—there is no doubt about that; whatever doubts a man +may entertain upon other subjects, he can have none upon this, we feel +quite certain. In fact, so true is it that we would not for a moment +have drawn the reader’s attention to it here, were it not that our +experience of life in the backwoods corroborates the truth; and truth, +however well corroborated, is none the worse of getting a little +additional testimony now and then in this sceptical generation. + +Life is checkered, then, undoubtedly. And life in the backwoods +strengthens the proverb, for it is a peculiarly striking and remarkable +specimen of life’s variegated character. + +There is a difference between sailing smoothly along the shores of Lake +Winnipeg with favouring breezes, and being tossed on its surging +billows by the howling of a nor’-west wind, that threatens destruction +to the boat, or forces it to seek shelter on the shore. This difference +is one of the checkered scenes of which we write, and one that was +experienced by the brigade more than once during its passage across the +lake. + +Since we are dealing in truisms, it may not, perhaps, be out of place +here to say that going to bed at night is not by any means getting up +in the morning; at least so several of our friends found to be the case +when the deep sonorous voice of Louis Peltier sounded through the camp +on the following morning, just as a very faint, scarcely perceptible, +light tinged the eastern sky. + +“Lève, lève, lève!” he cried, “lève, lève, mes enfants!” + +Some of Louis’s _infants_ replied to the summons in a way that would +have done credit to a harlequin. One or two active little Canadians, on +hearing the cry of the awful word _lève_, rose to their feet with a +quick bound, as if they had been keeping up an appearance of sleep as a +sort of practical joke all night, on purpose to be ready to leap as the +first sound fell from the guide’s lips. Others lay still, in the same +attitude in which they had fallen asleep, having made up their minds, +apparently, to lie there in spite of all the guides in the world. Not a +few got slowly into the sitting position, their hair dishevelled, their +caps awry, their eyes alternately winking very hard and staring awfully +in the vain effort to keep open, and their whole physiognomy wearing an +expression of blank stupidity that is peculiar to man when engaged in +that struggle which occurs each morning as he endeavours to disconnect +and shake off the entanglement of nightly dreams and the realities of +the breaking day. Throughout the whole camp there was a low, muffled +sound, as of men moving lazily, with broken whispers and disjointed +sentences uttered in very deep, hoarse tones, mingled with confused, +unearthly noises, which, upon consideration, sounded like prolonged +yawns. Gradually these sounds increased, for the guide’s _lève_ is +inexorable, and the voyageur’s fate inevitable. + +“Oh dear!—yei a—a—ow” (yawning); “hang your _lève!_” + +“Oui, vraiment—yei a-a——ow—morbleu!” + +“Eh, what’s that? Oh, misère!” + +“Tare an’ ages!” (from an Irishman), “an’ I had only got to slaape yit! +but—yei a—a——ow!” + +French and Irish yawns are very similar, the only difference being, +that whereas the Frenchman finishes the yawn resignedly, and springs to +his legs, the Irishman finishes it with an energetic gasp, as if he +were hurling it remonstratively into the face of Fate, turns round +again and shuts his eyes doggedly—a piece of bravado which he knows is +useless and of very short duration. + +“Lève! lève!! lève!!!” There was no mistake this time in the tones of +Louis’s voice. “Embark, embark! vite, vite!” + +The subdued sounds of rousing broke into a loud buzz of active +preparation, as the men busied themselves in bundling up blankets, +carrying down camp-kettles to the lake, launching the boats, kicking up +lazy comrades, stumbling over and swearing at fallen trees which were +not visible in the cold, uncertain light of the early dawn, searching +hopelessly, among a tangled conglomeration of leaves and broken +branches and crushed herbage, for lost pipes and missing +tobacco-pouches. + +“Hollo!” exclaimed Harry Somerville, starting suddenly from his +sleeping posture, and unintentionally cramming his elbow into Charley’s +mouth, “I declare they’re all up and nearly ready to start.” + +“That’s no reason,” replied Charley, “why you should knock out all my +front teeth, is it?” + +Just then Mr. Park issued from his tent, dressed and ready to step into +his boat. He first gave a glance round the camp to see that all the men +were moving, then he looked up through the trees to ascertain the +present state and, if possible, the future prospects of the weather. +Having come to a satisfactory conclusion on that head, he drew forth +his pipe and began to fill it, when his eye fell on the two boys, who +were still sitting up in their lairs, and staring idiotically at the +place where the fire had been, as if the white ashes, half-burned logs, +and bits of charcoal were a sight of the most novel and interesting +character, that filled them with intense amazement. + +Mr. Park could scarce forbear smiling. + +“Hollo, youngsters, precious voyageurs _you’ll_ make, to be sure, if +this is the way you’re going to begin. Don’t you see that the things +are all aboard, and we’ll be ready to start in five minutes, and you +sitting there with your neckcloths off?” + +Mr. Park gave a slight sneer when he spoke of _neckcloths_, as if he +thought, in the first place, that they were quite superfluous portions +of attire, and in the second place, that having once put them on, the +taking of them off at night was a piece of effeminacy altogether +unworthy of a Nor’-wester. + +Charley and Harry needed no second rebuke. It flashed instantly upon +them that sleeping comfortably under their blankets when the men were +bustling about the camp was extremely inconsistent with the heroic +resolves of the previous day. They sprang up, rolled their blankets in +the oil-cloths, which they fastened tightly with ropes; tied the +neckcloths, held in such contempt by Mr. Park, in a twinkling; threw on +their coats, and in less than five minutes were ready to embark. They +then found that they might have done things more leisurely, as the +crews had not yet got all their traps on board; so they began to look +around them, and discovered that each had omitted to pack up a blanket. + +Very much crestfallen at their stupidity, they proceeded to untie the +bundles again, when it became apparent to the eyes of Charley that his +friend had put on his capote inside out; which had a peculiarly ragged +and grotesque effect. These mistakes were soon rectified, and +shouldering their beds, they carried them down to the boat and tossed +them in. Meanwhile Mr. Park, who had been watching the movements of the +boys with a peculiar smile, that filled them with confusion, went round +the different camps to see that nothing was left behind. The men were +all in their places with oars ready, and the boats floating on the calm +water, a yard or two from shore, with the exception of the guide’s +boat, the stern of which still rested on the sand awaiting Mr. Park. + +“Who does this belong to?” shouted that gentleman, holding up a cloth +cap, part of which was of a mottled brown and part deep blue. + +Harry instantly tore the covering from his head, and discovered that +among his numerous mistakes he had put on the head-dress of one of the +Indians who had brought him to the camp. To do him justice the cap was +not unlike his own, excepting that it was a little more mottled and +dirty in colour, besides being decorated with a gaudy but very much +crushed and broken feather. + +“You had better change with our friend here, I think,” said Mr. Park, +grinning from ear to ear, as he tossed the cap to its owner, while +Harry handed the other to the Indian, amid the laughter of the crew. + +“Never mind, boy,” added Mr. Park, in an encouraging tone, “you’ll make +a voyageur yet.—Now then, lads, give way;” and with a nod to the +Indians, who stood on the shore watching their departure, the trader +sprang into the boat and took his place beside the two boys. + +“Ho! sing, mes garçons,” cried the guide, seizing the massive sweep and +directing the boat out to sea. + +At this part of the lake there occurs a deep bay or inlet, to save +rounding which travellers usually strike straight across from point to +point, making what is called in voyageur parlance a _traverse_. These +traverses are subjects of considerable anxiety and frequently of delay +to travellers, being sometimes of considerable extent, varying from +four to five, and in such immense seas as Lake Superior, to fourteen +miles. With boats, indeed, there is little to fear, as the inland craft +of the fur-traders can stand a heavy sea, and often ride out a pretty +severe storm; but it is far otherwise with the bark canoes that are +often used in travelling. These frail craft can stand very little +sea—their frames being made of thin flat slips of wood and sheets of +bark, not more than a quarter of an inch thick, which are sewed +together with the fibrous roots of the pine (called by the natives +_wattape_), and rendered water-tight by means of melted gum. Although +light and buoyant, therefore, and extremely useful in a country where +portages are numerous, they require very tender usage; and when a +traverse has to be made, the guides have always a grave consultation, +with some of the most sagacious among the men, as to the probability of +the wind rising or falling—consultations which are more or less marked +by anxiety and tediousness in proportion to the length of the traverse, +the state of the weather and the courage or timidity of the guides. + +On the present occasion there was no consultation, as has been already +seen. The traverse was a short one, the morning fine, and the boats +good. A warm glow began to overspread the horizon, giving promise of a +splendid day, as the numerous oars dipped with a plash and a loud hiss +into the water, and sent the boats leaping forth upon the white wave. + +“Sing, sing!” cried the guide again, and clearing his throat, he began +the beautiful quick-tuned canoe-song “Rose Blanche,” to which the men +chorused with such power of lungs that a family of plovers, which up to +that time had stood in mute astonishment on a sandy point, tumbled +precipitately into the water, from which they rose with a shrill, +inexpressibly wild, plaintive cry, and fled screaming away to a more +secure refuge among the reeds and sedges of a swamp. A number of ducks +too, awakened by the unwonted sound, shot suddenly out from the +concealment of their night’s bivouac with erect heads and startled +looks, sputtered heavily over the surface of their liquid bed, and +rising into the air, flew in a wide circuit, with whistling wings, away +from the scene of so much uproar and confusion. + +The rough voices of the men grew softer and softer as the two Indians +listened to the song of their departing friends, mellowing down and +becoming more harmonious and more plaintive as the distance increased, +and the boats grew smaller and smaller, until they were lost in the +blaze of light that now bathed both water and sky in the eastern +horizon, and began rapidly to climb the zenith, while the sweet tones +became less and less audible as they floated faintly across the still +water, and melted at last into the deep silence of the wilderness. + +The two Indians still stood with downcast heads and listening ears, as +if they loved the last echo of the dying music, while their grave, +statue-like forms added to rather than detracted from, the solitude of +the deserted scene. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Charley and Harry begin their sporting career without much +success—Whisky-john catching. + + +The place in the boats usually allotted to gentlemen in the Company’s +service while travelling is the stern. Here the lading is so arranged +as to form a pretty level hollow, where the flat bundles containing +their blankets are placed, and a couch is thus formed that rivals +Eastern effeminacy in luxuriance. There are occasions, however, when +this couch is converted into a bed, not of thorns exactly, but of +corners; and really it would be hard to say which of the two is the +more disagreeable. Should the men be careless in arranging the cargo, +the inevitable consequence is that “monsieur” will find the leg of an +iron stove, the sharp edge of a keg, or the corner of a wooden box +occupying the place where his ribs should be. So common, however, is +this occurrence that the clerks usually superintend the arrangements +themselves, and so secure comfort. + +On a couch, then, of this kind Charley and Harry now found themselves +constrained to sit all morning—sometimes asleep, occasionally awake, +and always earnestly desiring that it was time to put ashore for +breakfast, as they had now travelled for four hours without halt, +except twice for about five minutes, to let the men light their pipes. + +“Charley,” said Harry Somerville to his friend, who sat beside him, “it +strikes me that we are to have no breakfast at all to-day. Here have I +been holding my breath and tightening my belt, until I feel much more +like a spider or a wasp than a—a—” + +“_Man_, Harry; out with it at once, don’t be afraid,” said Charley. + +“Well, no, I wasn’t going to have said _that_ exactly, but I was going +to have said a voyageur, only I recollected our doings this morning, +and hesitated to take the name until I had won it.” + +“It’s well that you entertain so modest an opinion of yourself,” said +Mr. Park, who still smoked his pipe as if he were impressed with the +idea that to stop for a moment would produce instant death. “I may tell +you for your comfort, youngster, that we shan’t breakfast till we reach +yonder point.” + +The shores of Lake Winnipeg are flat and low, and the point indicated +by Mr. Park lay directly in the light of the sun, which now shone with +such splendour in the cloudless sky, and flashed on the polished water, +that it was with difficulty they could look towards the point of land. + +“Where is it?” asked Charley, shading his eyes with his hand; “I cannot +make out anything at all.” + +“Try again, my boy; there’s nothing like practice.” + +“Ah yes! I make it out now; a faint shadow just under the sun. Is that +it?” + +“Ay, and we’ll break our fast _there_.” + +“I would like very much to break your head _here_,” thought Charley, +but he did not say it, as, besides being likely to produce unpleasant +consequences, he felt that such a speech to an elderly gentleman would +be highly improper; and Charley had _some_ respect for gray hairs for +their own sake, whether the owner of them was a good man or a goose. + +“What shall we do, Harry? If I had only thought of keeping out a book.” + +“I know what _I_ shall do,” said Harry, with a resolute air: “I’ll go +and shoot!” + +“Shoot!” cried Charley. “You don’t mean to say that you’re going to +waste your powder and shot by firing at the clouds! for unless you take +_them_, I see nothing else here.” + +“That’s because you don’t use your eyes,” retorted Harry. “Will you +just look at yonder rock ahead of us, and tell me what you see?” + +Charley looked earnestly at the rock, which to a cursory glance seemed +as if composed of whiter stone on the top. “Gulls, I declare!” shouted +Charley, at the same time jumping up in haste. + +Just then one of the gulls, probably a scout sent out to watch the +approaching enemy, wheeled in a circle overhead. The two youths dragged +their guns from beneath the thwarts of the boat, and rummaged about in +great anxiety for shot-belts and powder-horns. At last they were found; +and having loaded, they sat on the edge of the boat, looking out for +game with as much—ay, with _more_ intense interest than a Blackfoot +Indian would have watched for a fat buffalo cow. + +“There he goes,” said Harry; “take the first shot, Charley.” + +“Where? where is it?” + +“Right ahead. Look out!” + +As Harry spoke, a small white gull, with bright-red legs and beak, flew +over the boat so close to them that, as the guide remarked, “he could +see it wink!” Charley’s equanimity, already pretty well disturbed, was +entirely upset at the suddenness of the bird’s appearance; for he had +been gazing intently at the rock when his friend’s exclamation drew his +attention in time to see the gull within about four feet of his head. +With a sudden “Oh!” Charley threw forward his gun, took a short, +wavering aim, and blew the cock-tail feather out of Baptiste’s hat; +while the gull sailed tranquilly away, as much as to say, “If _that’s_ +all you can do, there’s no need for me to hurry!” + +“Confound the boy!” cried Mr. Park. “You’ll be the death of someone +yet; I’m convinced of that.” + +“Parbleu! you may say that, c’est vrai,” remarked the voyageur with a +rueful gaze at his hat, which, besides having its ornamental feather +shattered, was sadly cut up about the crown. + +The poor lad’s face became much redder than the legs or beak of the +gull as he sat down in confusion, which he sought to hide by busily +reloading his gun; while the men indulged in a somewhat witty and +sarcastic criticism of his powers of shooting, remarking, in flattering +terms, on the precision of the shot that blew Baptiste’s feather into +atoms, and declaring that if every shot he fired was as truly aimed, he +would certainly be the best in the country. + +Baptiste also came in for a share of their repartee. “It serves you +right,” said the guide, laughing, “for wearing such things on the +voyage. You should put away such foppery till you return to the +settlement, where there are _girls_ to admire you.” (Baptiste had +continued to wear the tall hat, ornamented with gold cords and tassels, +with which he had left Red River). + +“Ah!” cried another, pulling vigorously at his oar, “I fear that Marie +won’t look at you, now that all your beauty’s gone.” + +“’Tis not quite gone,” said a third; “there’s all the brim and half a +tassel left, besides the wreck of the remainder.” + +“Oh, I can lend you a few fragments,” retorted Baptiste, endeavouring +to parry some of the thrusts. “They would improve _you_ vastly.” + +“No, no, friend; gather them up and replace them: they will look more +picturesque and becoming now. I believe if you had worn them much +longer all the men in the boat would have fallen in love with you.” + +“By St. Patrick,” said Mike Brady, an Irishman who sat at the oar +immediately behind the unfortunate Canadian, “there’s more than enough +o’ rubbish scattered over mysilf nor would do to stuff a fither-bed +with.” + +As Mike spoke, he collected the fragments of feathers and ribbons with +which the unlucky shot had strewn him, and placed them slyly on the top +of the dilapidated hat, which Baptiste, after clearing away the wreck, +had replaced on his head. + +“It’s very purty,” said Mike, as the action was received by the crew +with a shout of merriment. + +Baptiste was waxing wrathful under this fire, when the general +attention was drawn again towards Charley and his friend, who, having +now got close to the rock, had quite forgotten their mishap in the +excitement of expectation. + +This excitement in the shooting of such small game might perhaps +surprise our readers, did we not acquaint them with the fact that +neither of the boys had, up to that time, enjoyed much opportunity of +shooting. It is true that Harry had once or twice borrowed the +fowling-piece of the senior clerk, and had sallied forth with a beating +heart to pursue the grouse which are found in the belt of woodland +skirting the Assiniboine River near to Fort Garry. But these +expeditions were of rare occurrence, and they had not sufficed to rub +off much of the bounding excitement with which he loaded and fired at +anything and everything that came within range of his gun. Charley, on +the other hand, had never fired a shot before, except out of an old +horse-pistol; having up to this period been busily engaged at school, +except during the holidays, which he always spent in the society of his +sister Kate, whose tastes were not such as were likely to induce him to +take up the gun, even if he had possessed such a weapon. Just before +leaving Red River, his father presented him with his own gun, +remarking, as he did so, with a sigh, that _his_ day was past now; and +adding that the gun was a good one for shot or ball, and if he +(Charley) brought down _half_ as much game with it as he (Mr. Kennedy) +had brought down in the course of his life, he might consider himself a +crack shot undoubtedly. + +It was not surprising, therefore, that the two friends went nearly mad +with excitation when the whole flock of gulls rose into the air like a +white cloud, and sailed in endless circles and gyrations above and +around their heads—flying so close at times that they might almost have +been caught by the hand. Neither was it surprising that innumerable +shots were fired, by both sportsmen, without a single bird being a whit +the worse for it, or themselves much the better; the energetic efforts +made to hit being rendered abortive by the very eagerness which caused +them to miss. And this was the less extraordinary, too, when it is +remembered that Harry in his haste loaded several times without shot, +and Charley rendered the right barrel of his gun _hors de combat_ at +last, by ramming down a charge of shot and omitting powder altogether, +whereby he snapped and primed, and snapped and primed again, till he +grew desperate, and then suspicious of the true cause, which he finally +rectified with much difficulty. + +Frequently the gulls flew straight over the heads of the youths—which +produced peculiar consequences, as in such cases they took aim while +the birds were approaching; but being somewhat slow at taking aim, the +gulls were almost perpendicularly above them ere they were ready to +shoot, so that they were obliged to fire hastily in _hope_, feeling +that they were losing their balance, or give up the chance altogether. + +Mr. Park sat grimly in his place all the while, enjoying the scene, and +smoking. + +“Now then, Charley,” said he, “take that fellow.” + +“Which? where? Oh, if I could only get one!” said Charley, looking up +eagerly at the screaming birds, at which he had been staring so long, +in their varying and crossing flight, that his sight had become +hopelessly unsteady. + +“There! Look sharp; fire away!” + +Bang went Charley’s piece, as he spoke, at a gull which flew straight +towards him, but so rapidly that it was directly above his head; +indeed, he was leaning a little backwards at the moment, which caused +him to miss again, while the recoil of the gun brought matters to a +climax, by toppling him over into Mr. Park’s lap, thereby smashing that +gentleman’s pipe to atoms. The fall accidentally exploded the second +barrel, causing the butt to strike Charley in the pit of his stomach—as +if to ram him well home into Mr. Park’s open arms—and hitting with a +stray shot a gull that was sailing high up in the sky in fancied +security. It fell with a fluttering crash into the boat while the men +were laughing at the accident. + +“Didn’t I say so?” cried Mr. Park, wrathfully, as he pitched Charley +out of his lap, and spat out the remnants of his broken pipe. + +Fortunately for all parties, at this moment the boat approached a spot +on which the guide had resolved to land for breakfast; and seeing the +unpleasant predicament into which poor Charley had fallen, he assumed +the strong tones of command with which guides are frequently gifted, +and called out,— + +“Ho, ho! à terre! à terre! to land! to land! Breakfast, my boys; +breakfast!”—at the same time sweeping the boat’s head shoreward, and +running into a rocky bay, whose margin was fringed by a growth of small +trees. Here, in a few minutes, they were joined by the other boats of +the brigade, which had kept within sight of each other nearly the whole +morning. + +While travelling through the wilds of North America in boats, voyageurs +always make a point of landing to breakfast. Dinner is a meal with +which they are unacquainted, at least on the voyage, and luncheon is +likewise unknown. If a man feels hungry during the day, the +pemmican-bag and its contents are there; he may pause in his work at +any time, for a minute, to seize the axe and cut off a lump, which he +may devour as he best can; but there is no going ashore—no resting for +dinner. Two great meals are recognised, and the time allotted to their +preparation and consumption held inviolable—breakfast and supper: the +first varying between the hours of seven and nine in the morning; the +second about sunset, at which time travellers usually encamp for the +night. Of the two meals it would be difficult to say which is more +agreeable. For our own part, we prefer the former. It is the meal to +which a man addresses himself with peculiar gusto, especially if he has +been astir three or four hours previously in the open air. It is the +time of day, too, when the spirits are freshest and highest, animated +by the prospect of the work, the difficulties, the pleasures, or the +adventures of the day that has begun; and cheered by that cool, clear +_buoyancy_ of Nature which belongs exclusively to the happy morning +hours, and has led poets in all ages to compare these hours to the +first sweet months of spring or the early years of childhood. + +Voyageurs, not less than poets, have felt the exhilarating influence of +the young day, although they have lacked the power to tell it in +sounding numbers; but where words were wanting, the sparkling eye, the +beaming countenance, the light step, and hearty laugh, were more +powerful exponents of the feelings within. Poet, and painter too, might +have spent a profitable hour on the shores of that great sequestered +lake, and as they watched the picturesque groups—clustering round the +blazing fires, preparing their morning meal, smoking their pipes, +examining and repairing the boats, or suning their stalwart limbs in +wild, careless attitudes upon the greensward—might have found a subject +worthy the most brilliant effusions of the pen, or the most graphic +touches of the pencil. + +An hour sufficed for breakfast. While it was preparing, the two friends +sauntered into the forest in search of game, in which they were +unsuccessful; in fact, with the exception of the gulls before +mentioned, there was not a feather to be seen—save, always, one or two +whisky-johns. + +Whisky-johns are the most impudent, puffy, conceited little birds that +exist. Not much larger in reality than sparrows, they nevertheless +manage to swell out their feathers to such an extent that they appear +to be as large as magpies, which they further resemble in their +plumage. Go where you will in the woods of Rupert’s Land, the instant +that you light a fire two or three whisky-johns come down and sit +beside you, on a branch, it may be, or on the ground, and generally so +near that you cannot but wonder at their recklessness. There is a +species of impudence which seems to be specially attached to little +birds. In them it reaches the highest pitch of perfection. A bold, +swelling, arrogant effrontery—a sort of stark, staring, +self-complacent, comfortable, and yet innocent impertinence, which is +at once irritating and amusing, aggravating and attractive, and which +is exhibited in the greatest intensity in the whisky-john. He will jump +down almost under your nose, and seize a fragment of biscuit or +pemmican. He will go right into the pemmican-bag, when you are but a +few paces off, and pilfer, as it were, at the fountain-head. Or if +these resources are closed against him, he will sit on a twig, within +an inch of your head, and look at you as only a whisky-john _can_ look. + +“I’ll catch one of these rascals,” said Harry, as he saw them jump +unceremoniously into and out of the pemmican-bag. + +Going down to the boat, Harry hid himself under the tarpaulin, leaving +a hole open near to the mouth of the bag. He had not remained more than +a few minutes in this concealment when one of the birds flew down, and +alighted on the edge of the boat. After a glance round to see that all +was right, it jumped into the bag. A moment after, Harry, darting his +hand through the aperture, grasped him round the neck and secured him. +Poor whisky-john screamed and pecked ferociously, while Harry brought +him in triumph to his friend; but so unremittingly did the bird scream +that its captor was fain at last to let him off, the more especially as +the cook came up at the moment and announced that breakfast was ready. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +The storm. + + +Two days after the events of the last chapter, the brigade was making +one of the traverses which have already been noticed as of frequent +occurrence in the great lakes. The morning was calm and sultry. A deep +stillness pervaded Nature, which tended to produce a corresponding +quiescence in the mind, and to fill it with those indescribably solemn +feelings that frequently arise before a thunderstorm. Dark, lurid +clouds hung overhead in gigantic masses, piled above each other like +the battlements of a dark fortress, from whose ragged embrasures the +artillery of heaven was about to play. + +“Shall we get over in time, Louis?” asked Mr. Park, as he turned to the +guide, who sat holding the tiller with a firm grasp; while the men, +aware of the necessity of reaching shelter ere the storm burst upon +them, were bending to the oars with steady and sustained energy. + +“Perhaps,” replied Louis, laconically.—“Pull, lads, pull! else you’ll +have to sleep in wet skins to-night.” + +A low growl of distant thunder followed the guide’s words, and the men +pulled with additional energy; while the slow measured hiss of the +water, and clank of oars, as they cut swiftly through the lake’s clear +surface, alone interrupted the dead silence that ensued. + +Charley and his friend conversed in low whispers; for there is a +strange power in a thunder-storm, whether raging or about to break, +that overawes the heart of man,—as if Nature’s God were nearer then +than at other times; as if He—whose voice, indeed, if listened to, +speaks even in the slightest evolution of natural phenomena—were about +to tread the visible earth with more than usual majesty, in the vivid +glare of the lightning flash, and in the awful crash of thunder. + +“I don’t know how it is, but I feel more like a coward,” said Charley, +“just before a thunderstorm than I think I should do in the arms of a +polar bear. Do you feel queer, Harry?” + +“A little,” replied Harry, in a low whisper, “and yet I’m not +frightened. I can scarcely tell what I feel, but I’m certain it’s not +fear.” + +“Well, I don’t know,” said Charley. “When father’s black bull chased +Kate and me in the prairies, and almost overtook us as we ran for the +fence of the big field, I felt my heart leap to my mouth, and the blood +rush to my cheeks, as I turned about and faced him, while Kate climbed +the fence; but after she was over, I felt a wild sort of wickedness in +me, as if I should like to tantalise and torment him,—and I felt +altogether different from what I feel now while I look up at these +black clouds. Isn’t there something quite awful in them, Harry?” + +Ere Harry replied, a bright flash of lightning shot athwart the sky, +followed by a loud roll of thunder, and in a moment the wind rushed, +like a fiend set suddenly free, down upon the boats, tearing up the +smooth surface of the water as it flew, and cutting it into gleaming +white streaks. Fortunately the storm came down behind the boats, so +that, after the first wild burst was over, they hoisted a small portion +of their lug sails, and scudded rapidly before it. + +There was still a considerable portion of the traverse to cross, and +the guide cast an anxious glance over his shoulder occasionally, as the +dark waves began to rise, and their crests were cut into white foam by +the increasing gale. Thunder roared in continued, successive peals, as +if the heavens were breaking up, while rain descended in sheets. For a +time the crews continued to ply their oars; but as the wind increased, +these were rendered superfluous. They were taken in, therefore, and the +men sought partial shelter under the tarpaulin; while Mr. Park and the +two boys were covered, excepting their heads, by an oilcloth, which was +always kept at hand in rainy weather. + +“What think you now, Louis?” said Mr. Park, resuming the pipe which the +sudden outburst of the storm had caused him to forget. “Have we seen +the worst of it?” + +Louis replied abruptly in the negative, and in a few seconds shouted +loudly, “Look out, lads! here comes a squall. Stand by to let go the +sheet there!” + +Mike Brady, happening to be near the sheet, seized hold of the rope, +and prepared to let go, while the men rose, as if by instinct, and +gazed anxiously at the approaching squall, which could be seen in the +distance, extending along the horizon, like a bar of blackest ink, +spotted with flakes of white. The guide sat with compressed lips, and +motionless as a statue, guiding the boat as it bounded madly towards +the land, which was now not more than half-a-mile distant. + +“Let go!” shouted the guide, in a voice that was heard loud and clear +above the roar of the elements. + +“Ay, ay,” replied the Irishman, untwisting the rope instantly, as with +a sharp hiss the squall descended on the boat. + +At that moment the rope became entangled round one of the oars, and the +gale burst with all its fury on the distended sail, burying the prow in +the waves, which rushed inboard in a black volume, and in an instant +half filled the boat. + +“Let go!” roared the guide again, in a voice of thunder; while Mike +struggled with awkward energy to disentangle the rope. + +As he spoke, an Indian, who during the storm had been sitting beside +the mast, gazing at the boiling water with a grave, contemplative +aspect, sprang quickly forward, drew his knife, and with two blows (so +rapidly delivered that they seemed but one) cut asunder first the sheet +and then the halyards, which let the sail blow out and fall flat upon +the boat. He was just in time. Another moment and the gushing water, +which curled over the bow, would have filled them to the gunwale. As it +was, the little vessel was so full of water that she lay like a log, +while every toss of the waves sent an additional torrent into her. + +“Bail for your lives, lads!” cried Mr. Park, as he sprang forward, and, +seizing a tin dish, began energetically to bail out the water. +Following his example, the whole crew seized whatever came first to +hand in the shape of dish or kettle, and began to bail. Charley and +Harry Somerville acted a vigorous part on this occasion—the one with a +bark dish (which had been originally made by the natives for the +purpose of holding maple sugar), the other with his cap. + +For a time it seemed doubtful whether the curling waves should send +most water _into_ the boat, or the crew should bail most _out_ of it. +But the latter soon prevailed, and in a few minutes it was so far got +under that three of the men were enabled to leave off bailing and reset +the sail, while Louis Pettier returned to his post at the helm. At +first the boat moved but slowly, owing to the weight of water in her; +but as this gradually grew less, she increased her speed and neared the +land. + +“Well done, Redfeather,” said Mr. Park, addressing the Indian as he +resumed his seat; “your knife did us good service that time, my fine +fellow.” + +Redfeather, who was the only pure native in the brigade, acknowledged +the compliment with a smile. + +“_Ah, oui_,” replied the guide, whose features had now lost their stern +expression. “These Injins are always ready enough with their knives. +It’s not the first time my life has been saved by the knife of a +red-skin.” + +“Humph! bad luck to them,” muttered Mike Brady; “it’s not the first +time that my windpipe has been pretty near spiflicated by the knives o’ +the redskins, the murtherin’ varmints.” + +As Mike gave vent to this malediction, the boat ran swiftly past a low +rocky point, over which the surf was breaking wildly. + +“Down with the sail, Mike,” cried the guide, at the same time putting +the helm hard up. The boat flew round, obedient to the ruling power, +made one last plunge as it left the rolling surf behind, and slid +gently and smoothly into still water under the lee of the point. + +Here, in the snug shelter of a little bay, two of the other boats were +found, with their prows already on the beach, and their crews actively +employed in landing their goods, opening bales that had received damage +from the water, and preparing the encampment; while ever and anon they +paused a moment to watch the various boats as they flew before the +gale, and one by one doubled the friendly promontory. + +If there is one thing that provokes a voyageur more than another, it is +being wind-bound on the shores of a large lake. Rain or sleet, heat or +cold, icicles forming on the oars, or a broiling sun glaring in a +cloudless sky, the stings of sand-flies, or the sharp probes of a +million musquitoes, he will bear with comparative indifference; but +being detained by high wind for two, three, or four days together—lying +inactively on shore, when everything else, it may be, is favourable: +the sun bright, the sky blue, the air invigorating, and all but the +wind propitious—is more than his philosophy can carry him through with +equanimity. He grumbles at it; sometimes makes believe to laugh at it; +very often, we are sorry to say, swears at it; does his best to sleep +through it; but whatever he does, he does with a bad grace, because +he’s in a bad humour, and can’t stand it. + +For the next three days this was the fate of our friends. Part of the +time it rained, when the whole party slept as much as was possible, and +then _endeavoured_ to sleep _more_ than was possible, under the shelter +afforded by the spreading branches of the trees. Part of the time was +fair, with occasional gleams of sunshine, when the men turned out to +eat and smoke and gamble round the fires; and the two friends sauntered +down to a sheltered place on the shore, sunned themselves in a warm +nook among the rocks, while they gazed ruefully at the foaming billows, +told endless stories of what they had done in time past, and equally +endless _prospective_ adventures that they earnestly hoped should +befall them in time to come. + +While they were thus engaged, Redfeather, the Indian who had cut the +ropes so opportunely during the storm, walked down to the shore, and +sitting down on a rock not far distant, fell apparently into a reverie. + +“I like that fellow,” said Harry, pointing to the Indian. + +“So do I. He’s a sharp, active man. Had it not been for him we should +have had to swim for it.” + +“Indeed, had it not been for him I should have had to sink for it,” +said Harry, with a smile, “for I can’t swim.” + +“Ah, true, I forgot that. I wonder what the red-skin, as the guide +calls him, is thinking about,” added Charley in a musing tone. + +“Of home, perhaps, ‘sweet home,’” said Harry, with a sigh. “Do you +think much of home, Charley, now that you have left it?” + +Charley did not reply for a few seconds. He seemed to muse over the +question. + +At last he said slowly— + +“Think of home? I think of little else when I am not talking with you, +Harry. My dear mother is always in my thoughts, and my poor old father. +Home? ay; and darling Kate, too, is at my elbow night and day, with the +tears streaming from her eyes, and her ringlets scattered over my +shoulder, as I saw her the day we parted, beckoning me back again, or +reproaching me for having gone away—God bless her! Yes, I often, very +often, think of home, Harry.” + +Harry made no reply. His friend’s words had directed his thoughts to a +very different and far-distant scene—to another Kate, and another +father and mother, who lived in a glen far away over the waters of the +broad Atlantic. He thought of them as they used to be when he was one +of the number, a unit in the beloved circle, whose absence would have +caused a blank there. He thought of the kind voice that used to read +the Word of God, and the tender kiss of his mother as they parted for +the night. He thought of the dreary day when he left them all behind, +and sailed away, in the midst of strangers, across the wide ocean to a +strange land. He thought of them now—_without_ him—accustomed to his +absence, and forgetful, perhaps, at times that he had once been there. +As he thought of all this a tear rolled down his cheek, and when +Charley looked up in his face, that tear-drop told plainly that he too +thought sometimes of home. + +“Let us ask Redfeather to tell us something about the Indians,” he said +at length, rousing himself. “I have no doubt he has had many adventures +in his life. Shall we, Charley?” + +“By all means—Ho, Redfeather; are you trying to stop the wind by +looking it out of countenance?” + +The Indian rose and walked towards the spot where the boys lay. + +“What was Redfeather thinking about?” said Charley, adopting the +somewhat pompous style of speech occasionally used by Indians. “Was he +thinking of the white swan and his little ones in the prairie; or did +he dream of giving his enemies a good licking the next time he meets +them?” + +“Redfeather has no enemies,” replied the Indian. “He was thinking of +the great Manito,[3] who made the wild winds, and the great lakes, and +the forest.” + + [3] God. + + +“And pray, good Redfeather, what did your thoughts tell you?” + +“They told me that men are very weak, and very foolish, and wicked; and +that Manito is very good and patient to let them live.” + +“That is to say,” cried Harry, who was surprised and a little nettled +to hear what he called the heads of a sermon from a red-skin, “that +_you_, being a man, are very weak, and very foolish, and wicked, and +that Manito is very good and patient to let _you_ live?” + +“Good,” said the Indian calmly; “that is what I mean.” + +“Come, Redfeather,” said Charley, laying his hand on the Indian’s arm, +“sit down beside us, and tell us some of your adventures. I know that +you must have had plenty, and it’s quite clear that we’re not to get +away from this place all day, so you’ve nothing better to do.” + +The Indian readily assented, and began his story in English. + +Redfeather was one of the very few Indians who had acquired the power +of speaking the English language. Having been, while a youth, brought +much into contact with the fur-traders, and having been induced by them +to enter their service for a time, he had picked up enough of English +to make himself easily understood. Being engaged at a later period of +life as a guide to one of the exploring parties sent out by the British +Government to discover the famous North West Passage, he had learned to +read and write, and had become so much accustomed to the habits and +occupations of the “pale faces,” that he spent more of his time, in one +way or another, with them than in the society of his tribe, which dwelt +in the thick woods bordering on one of the great prairies of the +interior. He was about thirty years of age; had a tall, thin, but wiry +and powerful frame; and was of a mild, retiring disposition. His face +wore a habitually grave expression, verging towards melancholy; +induced, probably, by the vicissitudes of a wild life (in which he had +seen much of the rugged side of nature in men and things) acting upon a +sensitive heart, and a naturally warm temperament. Redfeather, however, +was by no means morose; and when seated along with his Canadian +comrades round the camp fire, he listened with evidently genuine +interest to their stories, and entered into the spirit of their jests. +But he was always an auditor, and rarely took part in their +conversations. He, was frequently consulted by the guide in matters of +difficulty, and it was observed that the “red-skin’s” opinion always +carried much weight with it, although it was seldom given unless asked +for. The men respected him much because he was a hard worker, obliging, +and modest—-three qualities that insure respect, whether found under a +red skin or a white one. + +“I shall tell you,” he began, in a soft, musing tone, as if he were +wandering in memories of the past—“I shall tell you how it was that I +came by the name of Redfeather.” + +“Ah!” interrupted Charley, “I intended to ask you about that; you don’t +wear one.” + +“I did once. My father was a great warrior in his tribe,” continued the +Indian; “and I was but a youth when I got the name. + +“My tribe was at war at the time with the Chipewyans, and one of our +scouts having come in with the intelligence that a party of our enemies +was in the neighbourhood, our warriors armed themselves to go in +pursuit of them. I had been out once before with a war-party, but had +not been successful, as the enemy’s scouts gave notice of our approach +in time to enable them to escape. At the time the information was +brought to us, the young men of our village were amusing themselves +with athletic games, and loud challenges were being given and accepted +to wrestle, or race, or swim in the deep water of the river, which +flowed calmly past the green bank on which our wigwams stood. On a bank +near to us sat about a dozen of our women—some employed in ornamenting +moccasins with coloured porcupine quills; others making rogans of bark +for maple sugar, or nursing their young infants; while a few, chiefly +the old women, grouped themselves together and kept up an incessant +chattering, chiefly with reference to the doings of the young men. + +“Apart from these stood three or four of the principal men of our +tribe, smoking their pipes, and although apparently engrossed in +conversation, still evidently interested in what was going forward on +the bank of the river. + +“Among the young men assembled there was one of about my own age, who +had taken a violent dislike to me because the most beautiful girl in +all the village preferred me before him. His name was Misconna. He was +a hot-tempered, cruel youth; and although I endeavoured as much as +possible to keep out of his way, he sought every opportunity of picking +a quarrel with me. I had just been running a race along with several +other youths, and although not the winner, I had kept ahead of Misconna +all the distance. He now stood leaning against a tree, burning with +rage and disappointment. I was sorry for this, because I bore him no +ill-will, and if it had occurred to me at the time, I would have +allowed him to pass me, since I was unable to gain the race at any +rate. + +“‘Dog!’ he said at length, stepping forward and confronting me, ‘will +you wrestle?’ + +“Just as he approached I had turned round to leave the place. Not +wishing to have more to do with him, I pretended not to hear, and made +a step or two towards the lodges. ‘Dog,’ he cried again, while his eyes +flashed fiercely, as he grasped me by the arm, ‘will you wrestle, or +are you afraid? Has the brave boy’s heart changed into that of a girl?’ + +“‘No, Misconna,’ said I. ‘You _know_ that I am not afraid; but I have +no desire to quarrel with you.’ + +“‘You lie!’ cried he, with a cold sneer,—‘you are afraid; and see,’ he +added, pointing towards the women with a triumphant smile, ‘the +dark-eyed girl sees it and believes it too!’ + +“I turned to look, and there I saw Wabisca gazing on me with a look of +blank amazement. I could see, also, that several of the other women, +and some of my companions, shared in her surprise. + +“With a burst of anger I turned round. ‘No,’ Misconna,’ said I, ‘I am +_not_ afraid, as you shall find;’ and springing upon him, I grasped him +round the body. He was nearly, if not quite, as strong a youth as +myself; but I was burning with indignation at the insolence of his +conduct before so many of the women, which gave me more than usual +energy. For several minutes we swayed to and fro, each endeavouring in +vain to bend the other’s back; but we were too well matched for this, +and sought to accomplish our purpose by taking advantage of an +unguarded movement. At last such a movement occurred. My adversary made +a sudden and violent attempt to throw me to the left, hoping that an +inequality in the ground would favour his effort. But he was mistaken. +I had seen the danger and was prepared for it, so that the instant he +attempted it I threw forward my right leg, and thrust him backwards +with all my might. Misconna was quick in his motions. He saw my +intention—too late, indeed, to prevent it altogether, but in time to +throw back his left foot and stiffen his body till it felt like a block +of stone. The effort was now entirely one of endurance. We stood each +with his muscles strained to the utmost, without the slightest motion. +At length I felt my adversary give way a little. Slight though the +motion was, it instantly removed all doubt as to who should go down. My +heart gave a bound of exaltation, and with the energy which such a +feeling always inspires, I put forth all my strength, threw him heavily +over on his back, and fell upon him. + +“A shout of applause from my comrades greeted me as I rose and left the +ground; but at the same moment the attention of all was taken from +myself and the baffled Misconna by the arrival of the scout, bringing +us information that a party of Chipewyans were in the neighbourhood. In +a moment all was bustle and preparation. An Indian war-party is soon +got ready. Forty of our braves threw off the principal parts of their +clothing; painted their faces with stripes of vermilion and charcoal; +armed themselves with guns, bows, tomahawks and scalping knives, and in +a few minutes left the camp in silence, and at a quick pace. + +“One or two of the youths who had been playing on the river’s bank were +permitted to accompany the party, and among these were Misconna and +myself. As we passed a group of women, assembled to see us depart, I +observed the girl who had caused so much jealousy between us. She cast +down her eyes as we came up, and as we advanced close to the group she +dropped a white feather, as if by accident. Stooping hastily down, I +picked it up in passing, and stuck it in an ornamented band that bound +my hair. As we hurried on I heard two or three old hags laugh, and say, +with a sneer, ‘His hand is as white as a feather: it has never seen +blood.’ The next moment we were hid in the forest, and pursued our +rapid course in dead silence. + +“The country through which we passed was varied, extending in broken +bits of open prairie, and partly covered with thick wood, yet not so +thick as to offer any hindrance to our march. We walked in single file, +each treading in his comrade’s footsteps, while the band was headed by +the scout who had brought the information. The principal chief of our +tribe came next, and he was followed by the braves according to their +age or influence. Misconna and I brought up the rear. The sun was just +sinking as we left the belt of woodland in which our village stood, +crossed over a short plain, descended a dark hollow, at the bottom of +which the river flowed, and following its course for a considerable +distance, turned off to the right and emerged upon a sweep of +prairieland. Here the scout halted, and taking the chief and two or +three braves aside, entered into earnest consultation with them. + +“What they said we could not hear; but as we stood leaning on our guns +in the deep shade of the forest, we could observe by their animated +gestures that they differed in opinion. We saw that the scout pointed +several times to the moon, which was just rising above the treetops, +and then to the distant horizon: but the chief shook his head, pointed +to the woods, and seemed to be much in doubt, while the whole band +watched his motions in deep silence but evident interest. At length +they appeared to agree. The scout took his place at the head of the +line, and we resumed our march, keeping close to the margin of the +wood. It was perhaps three hours after this ere we again halted to hold +another consultation. This time their deliberations were shorter. In a +few seconds our chief himself took the lead, and turned into the woods, +through which he guided us to a small fountain which bubbled up at the +root of a birch tree, where there was a smooth green spot of level +ground. Here we halted, and prepared to rest for an hour, at the end of +which time the moon, which now shone bright and full in the clear sky, +would be nearly down, and we could resume our march. We now sat down in +a circle, and taking a hasty mouthful of dried meat, stretched +ourselves on the ground with our arms beside us, while our chief kept +watch, leaning against the birch tree. It seemed as if I had scarcely +been asleep five minutes when I felt a light touch on my shoulder. +Springing up, I found the whole party already astir, and in a few +minutes more we were again hurrying onwards. + +“We travelled thus until a faint light in the east told us that the day +was at hand, when the scout’s steps became more cautious, and he paused +to examine the ground frequently. At last we came to a place where the +ground sank slightly, and at a distance of a hundred yards rose again, +forming a low ridge which was crowned with small bushes. Here we came +to a halt, and were told that our enemies were on the other side of +that ridge; that they were about twenty in number, all Chipewyan +warriors, with the exception of one paleface—a trapper, and his Indian +wife. The scout had learned, while lying like a snake in the grass +around their camp, that this man was merely travelling with them on his +way to the Rocky Mountains, and that, as they were a war-party, he +intended to leave them soon. On hearing this the warriors gave a grim +smile, and our chief, directing the scout to fall behind, cautiously +led the way to the top of the ridge. On reaching it we saw a valley of +great extent, dotted with trees and shrubs, and watered by one of the +many rivers that flow into the great Saskatchewan. It was nearly dark, +however, and we could only get an indistinct view of the land. Far +ahead of us, on the right bank of the stream, and close to its margin, +we saw the faint red light of watch fires; which caused us some +surprise, for watch-fires are never lighted by a war-party so near to +an enemy’s country. So we could only conjecture that they were quite +ignorant of our being in that part of the country; which was, indeed, +not unlikely, seeing that we had shifted our camp during the summer. + +“Our chief now made arrangements for the attack. We were directed to +separate and approach individually as near to the camp as was possible +without risk of discovery, and then, taking up an advantageous +position, to await our chief’s signal, which was to be the hooting of +an owl. We immediately separated. My course lay along the banks of the +stream, and as I strode rapidly along, listening to its low solemn +murmur, which sounded clear and distinct in the stillness of a calm +summer night, I could not help feeling as if it were reproaching me for +the bloody work I was hastening to perform. Then the recollection of +what the old woman said of me raised a desperate spirit in my heart. +Remembering the white feather in my head, I grasped my gun and +quickened my pace. As I neared the camp I went into the woods and +climbed a low hillock to look out. I found that it still lay about five +hundred yards distant, and that the greater part of the ground between +it and the place where I stood was quite flat, and without cover of any +kind. I therefore prepared to creep towards it, although the attempt +was likely to be attended with great danger, for Chipewyans have quick +ears and sharp eyes. Observing, however, that the river ran close past +the camp, I determined to follow its course as before. In a few seconds +more I came to a dark narrow gap where the river flowed between broken +rocks, overhung by branches, and from which I could obtain a clear view +of the camp within fifty yards of me. Examining the priming of my gun, +I sat down on a rock to await the chief’s signal. + +“It was evident from the careless manner in which the fires were +placed, that no enemy was supposed to be near. From my concealment I +could plainly distinguish ten or fifteen of the sleeping forms of our +enemies, among which the trapper was conspicuous, from his superior +bulk, and the reckless way in which his brawny arms were flung on the +turf, while his right hand clutched his rifle. I could not but smile as +I thought of the proud boldness of the pale-face—lying all exposed to +view in the gray light of dawn while an Indian’s rifle was so close at +hand. One Indian kept watch, but he seemed more than half asleep. I had +not sat more than a minute when my observations were interrupted by the +cracking of a branch in the bushes near me. Starting up, I was about to +bound into the underwood, when a figure sprang down the bank and +rapidly approached me. My first impulse was to throw forward my gun, +but a glance sufficed to show me that it was a woman. + +“‘Wah!’ I exclaimed, in surprise, as she hurried forward and laid her +hand on my shoulder. She was dressed partly in the costume of the +Indians, but wore a shawl on her shoulders and a handkerchief on her +head that showed she had been in the settlements; and from the +lightness of her skin and hair, I judged at once that she was the +trapper’s wife, of whom I had heard the scout speak. + +“‘Has the light-hair got a medicine-bag, or does she speak with +spirits, that she has found me so easily?’ + +“The girl looked anxiously up in my face as if to read my thoughts, and +then said, in a low voice,— + +“‘No, I neither carry the medicine-bag nor hold palaver with spirits; +but I do think the good Manito must have led me here. I wandered into +the woods because I could not sleep, and I saw you pass. But tell me,’ +she added with still deeper anxiety, ‘does the white-feather come +alone? Does he approach _friends_ during the dark hours with a soft +step like a fox?’ + +“Feeling the necessity of detaining her until my comrades should have +time to surround the camp, I said: ‘The white-feather hunts far from +his lands. He sees Indians whom he does not know, and must approach +with a light step. Perhaps they are enemies.’ + +“‘Do Knisteneux hunt at night, prowling in the bed of a stream?’ said +the girl, still regarding me with a keen glance. ‘Speak truth, +stranger’ (and she started suddenly back); ‘in a moment I can alarm the +camp with a cry, and if your tongue is forked—But I do not wish to +bring enemies upon you, if they are indeed such. I am not one of them. +My husband and I travel with them for a time. We do not desire to see +blood. God knows,’ she added in French, which seemed her native tongue, +‘I have seen enough of that already.’ + +“As her earnest eyes looked into my face a sudden thought occurred to +me. ‘Go,’ said I, hastily, ‘tell your husband to leave the camp +instantly and meet me here; and see that the Chipewyans do not observe +your departure. Quick! his life and yours may depend on your speed.’ + +“The girl instantly comprehended my meaning. In a moment she sprang up +the bank; but as she did so the loud report of a gun was heard, +followed by a yell, and the war-whoop of the Knisteneux rent the air as +they rushed upon the devoted camp, sending arrows and bullets before +them. + +“On the instant I sprang after the girl and grasped her by the arm. +‘Stay, white-cheek; it is too late now. You cannot save your husband, +but I think he’ll save himself. I saw him dive into the bushes like a +cariboo. Hide yourself here; perhaps you may escape.’ + +“The half-breed girl sank on a fallen tree with a deep groan, and +clasped her hands convulsively before her eyes, while I bounded over +the tree, intending to join my comrades in pursuing the enemy. + +“As I did so a shrill cry arose behind me, and looking back, I beheld +the trapper’s wife prostrate on the ground, and Misconna standing over +her, his spear uplifted, and a fierce frown on his dark face. + +“‘Hold!’ I cried, rushing back and seizing his arm. ‘Misconna did not +come to kill _women_. She is not our enemy.’ + +“‘Does the young wrestler want _another_ wife?’ he said, with a wild +laugh, at the same time wrenching his arm from my gripe, and driving +his spear through the fleshy part of the woman’s breast and deep into +the ground. A shriek rent the air as he drew it out again to repeat the +thrust; but before he could do so, I struck him with the butt of my gun +on the head. Staggering backwards, he fell heavily among the bushes. At +this moment a second whoop rang out, and another of our band sprang +from the thicket that surrounded us. Seeing no one but myself and the +bleeding girl, he gave me a short glance of surprise, as if he wondered +why I did not finish the work which he evidently supposed I had begun. + +“‘Wah!’ he exclaimed; and uttering another yell plunged his spear into +the woman’s breast, despite my efforts to prevent him—this time with +more deadly effect, as the blood spouted from the wound, while she +uttered a piercing scream, and twined her arms round my legs as I stood +beside her, as if imploring for mercy. Poor girl! I saw that she was +past my help. The wound was evidently mortal. Already the signs of +death overspread her features, and I felt that a second blow would be +one of mercy; so that when the Indian stooped and passed his long knife +through her heart, I made but a feeble effort to prevent it. Just as +the man rose, with the warm blood dripping from his keen blade, the +sharp crack of a rifle was heard, and the Indian fell dead at my feet, +shot through the forehead, while the trapper bounded into the open +space, his massive frame quivering, and his sunburned face distorted +with rage and horror. From the other side of the brake six of our band +rushed forward and levelled their guns at him. For one moment the +trapper paused to cast a glance at the mangled corpse of his wife, as +if to make quite sure that she was dead; and then uttering a howl of +despair, he hurled his axe with a giant’s force at the Knisteneux, and +disappeared over the precipitous bank of the stream. + +“So rapid was the action that the volley which immediately succeeded +passed harmlessly over his head, while the Indians dashed forward in +pursuit. At the same instant I myself was felled to the earth. The axe +which the trapper had flung struck a tree in its flight, and as it +glanced off the handle gave me a violent blow in passing. I fell +stunned. As I did so my head alighted on the shoulder of the woman, and +the last thing I felt, as my wandering senses forsook me, was her still +warm blood flowing over my face and neck. + +“While this scene was going on, the yells and screams of the warriors +in the camp became fainter and fainter as they pursued and fled through +the woods. The whole band of Chipewyans was entirely routed, with the +exception of four who escaped, and the trapper whose flight I have +described; all the rest were slain, and their scalps hung at the belts +of the victorious Knisteneux warriors, while only one of our party was +killed. + +“Not more than a few minutes after receiving the blow that stunned me, +I recovered, and rising as hastily as my scattered faculties would +permit me, I staggered towards the camp, where I heard the shouts of +our men as they collected the arms of their enemies. As I rose, the +feather which Wabisca had dropped fell from my brow, and as I picked it +up to replace it, I perceived that it was _red_, being entirely covered +with the blood of the half-breed girl. + +“The place where Misconna had fallen was vacant as I passed, and I +found him standing among his comrades round the camp fires, examining +the guns and other articles which they had collected. He gave me a +short glance of deep hatred as I passed, and turned his head hastily +away. A few minutes sufficed to collect the spoils, and so rapidly had +everything been done that the light of day was still faint as we +silently returned on our track. We marched in the same order as before, +Misconna and I bringing up the rear. As we passed near the place where +the poor woman had been murdered, I felt a strong desire to return to +the spot. I could not very well understand the feeling, but it lay so +strong upon me that, when we reached the ridge where we first came in +sight of the Chipewyan camp, I fell behind until my companions +disappeared in the woods, and then ran swiftly back. Just as I was +about to step beyond the circle of bushes that surrounded the spot, I +saw that some one was there before me. It was a man, and as he advanced +into the open space and the light fell on his face, I saw that it was +the trapper. No doubt he had watched us off the ground, and then, when +all was safe, returned to bury his wife. I crouched to watch him. +Stepping slowly up to the body of his murdered wife, he stood beside it +with his arms folded on his breast and quite motionless. His head hung +down, for the heart of the white man was heavy, and I could see, as the +light increased, that his brows were dark as the thunder-cloud, and the +corners of his mouth twitched from a feeling that the Indian scorns to +show. My heart is full of sorrow for him now” (Redfeather’s voice sank +as he spoke); “it was full of sorrow for him even _then_, when I was +taught to think that pity for an enemy was unworthy of a brave. The +trapper stood gazing very long. His wife was young; he could not leave +her yet. At length a deep groan burst from his heart, as the waters of +a great river, long held down, swell up in spring and burst the ice at +last. Groan followed groan as the trapper still stood and pressed his +arms on his broad breast, as if to crush the heart within. At last he +slowly knelt beside her, bending more and more over the lifeless form, +until he lay extended on the ground beside it, and twining his arms +round the neck, he drew the cold cheek close to his, and pressed the +blood-covered bosom tighter and tighter, while his form quivered with +agony as he gave her a last, long embrace. Oh!” continued Redfeather, +while his brow darkened, and his black eye flashed with an expression +of fierceness that his young listeners had never seen before, “may the +curse—” He paused. “God forgive them! How could they know better? + +“At length the trapper rose hastily. The expression of his brow was +still the same, but his mouth was altered. The lips were pressed +tightly like those of a brave when led to torture, and there was a +fierce activity in his motions as he sprang down the bank and proceeded +to dig a hole in the soft earth. For half an hour he laboured, +shovelling away the earth with a large, flat stone; and carrying down +the body, he buried it there, under the shadow of a willow. The trapper +then shouldered his rifle and hurried away. On reaching the turn of the +stream which shuts the little hollow out from view, he halted suddenly, +gave one look into the prairie he was henceforth to tread alone, one +short glance back, and then, raising both arms in the air, looked up +into the sky, while he stretched himself to his full height. Even at +that distance I could see the wild glare of his eye and the heaving of +his breast. A moment after, and he was gone.” + +“And did you never see him again?” inquired Harry Somerville, eagerly. + +“No, I never saw him more. Immediately afterwards I turned to rejoin my +companions, whom I soon overtook, and entered our village along with +them. I was regarded as a poor warrior, because I brought home no +scalps, and ever afterwards I went by the name of _Redfeather_ in our +tribe.” + +“But are you still thought a poor warrior?” asked Charley, in some +concern, as if he were jealous of the reputation of his new friend. + +The Indian smiled. “No,” he said: “our village was twice attacked +afterwards, and in defending it, Redfeather took many scalps. He was +made a chief!” + +“Ah!” cried Charley, “I’m glad of that. And Wabisca, what came of her? +Did Misconna get her?” + +“She is my wife,” replied Redfeather. + +“Your wife! Why, I thought I heard the voyageurs call your wife the +white swan.” + +“Wabisca is _white_ in the language of the Knisteneux. She is beautiful +in form, and my comrades call her the white swan.” + +Redfeather said this with an air of gratified pride. He did not, +perhaps, love his wife with more fervour than he would have done had he +remained with his tribe; but Redfeather had associated a great deal +with the traders, and he had imbibed much of that spirit which prompts +“_white_ men” to treat their females with deference and respect—a +feeling which is very foreign to an Indian’s bosom. To do so was, +besides, more congenial to his naturally unselfish and affectionate +disposition, so that any flattering allusion to his partner was always +received by him with immense gratification. + +“I’ll pay you a visit some day, Redfeather, if I’m sent to any place +within fifty miles of your tribe,” said Charley with the air of one who +had fully made up his mind. + +“And Misconna?” asked Harry. + +“Misconna is with his tribe,” replied the Indian, and a frown +overspread his features as he spoke; “but Redfeather has been following +in the track of his white friends; he has not seen his nation for many +moons.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +The canoe—Ascending the rapids—The portage—Deer shooting and life in +the woods. + + +We must now beg the patient reader to take a leap with us, not only +through space, but also through time. We must pass over the events of +the remainder of the journey along the shore of Lake Winnipeg. +Unwilling though we are to omit anything in the history of our friends +that would be likely to prove interesting, we think it wise not to run +the risk of being tedious, or of dwelling too minutely on the details +of scenes which recall powerfully the feelings and memories of bygone +days to the writer, but may, nevertheless, appear somewhat flat to the +reader. + +We shall not, therefore, enlarge at present on the arrival of the boats +at Norway House, which lies at the north end of the lake, nor on what +was said and done by our friends and by several other young comrades +whom they found there. We shall not speak of the horror of Harry +Somerville, and the extreme disappointment of his friend Charley +Kennedy, when the former was told that instead of hunting grizzly bears +up the Saskatchewan he was condemned to the desk again at York Fort, +the depot on Hudson’s Bay,—a low, swampy place near the sea-shore, +where the goods for the interior are annually landed and the furs +shipped for England, where the greater part of the summer and much of +the winter is occupied by the clerks who may be doomed to vegetate +there in making up the accounts of what is termed the Northern +Department, and where the brigades converge from all the wide scattered +and far-distant outposts, and the _ship_ from England—that great event +of the year—arrives, keeping the place in a state of constant bustle +and effervescence until autumn, when ship and brigades finally depart, +leaving the residents (about thirty in number) shut up for eight long, +dreary months of winter, with a tenantless wilderness around and behind +them, and the wide, cold frozen sea before. This was among the first of +Harry’s disappointments. He suffered many afterwards, poor fellow! + +Neither shall we accompany Charley up the south branch of the +Saskatchewan, where his utmost expectations in the way of hunting were +more than realised, and where he became so accustomed to shooting ducks +and geese, and bears and buffaloes, that he could not forbear smiling +when he chanced to meet with a red-legged gull, and remembered how he +and his friend Harry had comported themselves when they first met with +these birds on the shores of Lake Winnipeg! We shall pass over all +this, and the summer, autumn, and winter too, and leap at once into the +spring of the following year. + +On a very bright, cheery morning of that spring a canoe might have been +seen slowly ascending one of the numerous streams which meander through +a richly-wooded fertile country, and mingle their waters with those of +the Athabasca River, terminating their united career in a large lake of +the same name. The canoe was small—one of the kind used by the natives +while engaged in hunting, and capable of holding only two persons +conveniently, with their baggage. To any one unacquainted with the +nature and capabilities of a northern Indian canoe, the fragile, bright +orange-coloured machine that was battling with the strong current of a +rapid must indeed have appeared an unsafe and insignificant craft; but +a more careful study of its performances in the rapid, and of the +immense quantity of miscellaneous goods and chattels which were, at a +later period of the day, disgorged from its interior, would have +convinced the beholder that it was in truth the most convenient and +serviceable craft that could be devised for the exigencies of such a +country. + +True, it could only hold two men (it _might_ have taken three at a +pinch), because men, and women too, are awkward, unyielding baggage, +very difficult to stow compactly; but it is otherwise with tractable +goods. The canoe is exceedingly thin, so that no space is taken up or +rendered useless by its own structure, and there is no end to the +amount of blankets, and furs, and coats, and paddles, and tent-covers, +and dogs, and babies, that can be stowed away in its capacious +interior. The canoe of which we are now writing contained two persons, +whose active figures were thrown alternately into every graceful +attitude of manly vigour, as with poles in hand they struggled to force +their light craft against the boiling stream. One was a man apparently +of about forty-five years of age. He was a square-shouldered, muscular +man, and from the ruggedness of his general appearance, the soiled +hunting-shirt that was strapped round his waist with a party-coloured +worsted belt, the leather leggings, a good deal the worse for wear, +together with the quiet, self-possessed glance of his gray eye, the +compressed lip and the sunburned brow, it was evident that he was a +hunter, and one who had seen rough work in his day. The expression of +his face was pleasing, despite a look of habitual severity which sat +upon it, and a deep scar which traversed his brow from the right temple +to the top of his nose. It was difficult to tell to what country he +belonged. His father was a Canadian, his mother a Scotchwoman. He was +born in Canada, brought up in one of the Yankee settlements on the +Missouri, and had, from a mere youth, spent his life as a hunter in the +wilderness. He could speak English, French, or Indian with equal ease +and fluency, but it would have been hard for anyone to say which of the +three was his native tongue. The younger man, who occupied the stern of +the canoe, acting the part of steersman, was quite a youth, apparently +about seventeen, but tall and stout beyond his years, and deeply +sunburned. Indeed, were it not for this fact, the unusual quantity of +hair that hung in massive curls down his neck, and the voyageur +costume, we should have recognised our young friend Charley Kennedy +again more easily. Had any doubts remained in our mind, the shout of +his merry voice would have scattered them at once. + +“Hold hard, Jacques,” he cried, as the canoe trembled in the current, +“one moment, till I get my pole fixed behind this rock. Now, then, +shove ahead. Ah!” he exclaimed with chagrin, as the pole slipped on the +treacherous bottom and the canoe whirled round. + +“Mind the rock,” cried the bowsman, giving an energetic thrust with his +pole, that sent the light bark into an eddy formed by a large rock +which rose above the turbulent waters. Here it rested while Jacques and +Charley raised themselves on their knees (travellers in small canoes +always sit in a kneeling position) to survey the rapid. + +“It’s too much for us, I fear, Mr. Charles,” said Jacques, shading his +brow with his horny hand. “I’ve paddled up it many a time alone, but +never saw the water so big as now.” + +“Humph! we shall have to make a portage then, I presume. Could we not +give it one trial more? I think we might make a dash for the tail of +that eddy, and then the stream above seems not quite so strong. Do you +think so, Jacques?” + +Jacques was not the man to check a daring young spirit. His motto +through life had ever been, “Never venture, never win”—a sentiment +which his intercourse among fur-traders had taught him to embody in the +pithy expression, “Never say die;” so that, although quite satisfied +that the thing was impossible, he merely replied to his companion’s +speech by an assenting “Ho,” and pushed out again into the stream. An +energetic effort enabled them to gain the tail of the eddy spoken of, +when Charley’s pole snapped across, and, falling heavily on the +gunwale, he would have upset the little craft had not Jacques, whose +wits were habitually on the _qui vive_, thrown his own weight at the +same moment on the opposite side, and counterbalanced Charley’s slip. +The action saved them a ducking; but the canoe, being left to its own +devices for an instant, whirled off again into the stream, and before +Charley could seize a paddle to prevent it, they were floating in the +still water at the foot of the rapids. + +“Now isn’t that a bore?” said Charley, with a comical look of +disappointment at his companion. + +Jacques laughed. + +“It was well to _try_, master. I mind a young clerk who came into these +parts the same year as I did, and _he_ seldom _tried_ anything. He +couldn’t abide canoes. He didn’t want for courage neither; but he had a +nat’ral dislike to them, I suppose, that he couldn’t help, and never +entered one except when he was obliged to do so. Well, one day he +wounded a grizzly bear on the banks o’ the Saskatchewan (mind the tail +o’ that rapid, Mr. Charles; we’ll land t’other side o’ yon rock). Well, +the bear made after him, and he cut stick right away for the river, +where there was a canoe hauled up on the bank. He didn’t take time to +put his rifle aboard, but dropped it on the gravel, crammed the canoe +into the water and jumped in, almost driving his feet through its +bottom as he did so, and then plumped down so suddenly, to prevent its +capsizing, that he split it right across. By this time the bear was at +his heels, and took the water like a duck. The poor clerk, in his +hurry, swayed from side to side tryin’ to prevent the canoe goin’ over. +But when he went to one side, he was so unused to it that he went too +far, and had to jerk over to the other pretty sharp; and so he got +worse and worse, until he heard the bear give a great snort beside him. +Then he grabbed the paddle in desperation, but at the first dash he +missed his stroke, and over he went. The current was pretty strong at +the place, which was lucky for him, for it kept him down a bit, so that +the bear didn’t observe him for a little; and while it was pokin’ away +at the canoe, he was carried down stream like a log and stranded on a +shallow. Jumping up he made tracks for the wood, and the bear (which +had found out its mistake), after him; so he was obliged at last to +take to a tree, where the beast watched him for a day and a night, till +his friends, thinking that something must be wrong, sent out to look +for him. (Steady, now, Mr. Charles; a little more to the right. That’s +it.) Now, if that young man had only ventured boldly into small canoes +when he got the chance, he might have laughed at the grizzly and killed +him too.” + +As Jacques finished, the canoe glided into a quiet bay formed by an +eddy of the rapid, where the still water was overhung with dense +foliage. + +“Is the portage a long one?” asked Charley, as he stepped out on the +bank, and helped to unload the canoe. + +“About half-a-mile,” replied his companion. “We might make it shorter +by poling up the last rapid; but it’s stiff work, Mr. Charles, and +we’ll do the thing quicker and easier at one lift.” + +The two travellers now proceeded to make a portage. They prepared to +carry their canoe and baggage overland, so as to avoid a succession of +rapids and waterfalls which intercepted their further progress. + +“Now, Jacques, up with it,” said Charley, after the loading had been +taken out and placed on the grassy bank. + +The hunter stooped, and seizing the canoe by its centre bar, lifted it +out of the water, placed it on his shoulders, and walked off with it +into the woods. This was not accomplished by the man’s superior +strength. Charley could have done it quite as well; and, indeed, the +strong hunter could have carried a canoe twice the size with perfect +ease. Immediately afterwards Charley followed with as much of the +lading as he could carry, leaving enough on the bank to form another +load. + +The banks of the river were steep—in some places so much so that +Jacques found it a matter of no small difficulty to climb over the +broken rocks with the unwieldy canoe on his back; the more so that the +branches interlaced overhead so thickly as to present a strong barrier, +through which the canoe had to be forced, at the risk of damaging its +delicate bark covering. On reaching the comparatively level land above, +however, there was more open space, and the hunter threaded his way +among the tree stems more rapidly, making a detour occasionally to +avoid a swamp or piece of broken ground; sometimes descending a deep +gorge formed by a small tributary of the stream they were ascending, +and which to an unpractised eye would have appeared almost impassable, +even without the encumbrance of a canoe. But the said canoe never bore +Jacques more gallantly or safely over the surges of lake or stream than +did he bear _it_ through the intricate mazes of the forest; now diving +down and disappearing altogether in the umbrageous foliage of a dell; +anon reappearing on the other side and scrambling up the bank on +all-fours, he and the canoe together looking like some frightful yellow +reptile of antediluvian proportions; and then speeding rapidly forward +over a level plain until he reached a sheet of still water above the +rapids. Here he deposited his burden on the grass, and halting only for +a few seconds to carry a few drops of the clear water to his lips, +retraced his steps to bring over the remainder of the baggage. Soon +afterwards Charley made his appearance on the spot where the canoe was +left, and throwing down his load, seated himself on it and surveyed the +prospect. Before him lay a reach of the stream which spread out so +widely as to resemble a small lake, in whose clear, still bosom were +reflected the overhanging foliage of graceful willows, and here and +there the bright stem of a silver birch, whose light-green leaves +contrasted well with scattered groups and solitary specimens of the +spruce fir. Reeds and sedges grew in the water along the banks, +rendering the junction of the land and the stream uncertain and +confused. All this and a great deal more Charley noted at a glance; for +the hundreds of beautiful and interesting objects in nature which take +so long to describe even partially, and are feebly set forth after all +even by the most graphic language, flash upon the eye in all their +force and beauty, and are drunk in at once in a single glance. + +But Charley noted several objects floating on the water which we have +not yet mentioned. These were five gray geese feeding among the rocks +at a considerable distance off, and all unconscious of the presence of +a human foe in their remote domains. The travellers had trusted very +much to their guns and nets for food, having only a small quantity of +pemmican in reserve, lest these should fail—an event which was not at +all likely, as the country through which they passed was teeming with +wild-fowl of all kinds, besides deer. These latter, however, were only +shot when they came inadvertently within rifle range, as our voyageurs +had a definite object in view, and could not afford to devote much of +their time to the chase. + +During the day previous to that on which we have introduced them to our +readers, Charley and his companion had been so much occupied in +navigating their frail bark among a succession of rapids, that they had +not attended to the replenishing of their larder, so that the geese +which now showed themselves were looked upon by Charley with a longing +eye. Unfortunately they were feeding on the opposite side of the river, +and out of shot. But Charley was a hunter now, and knew how to overcome +slight difficulties. He first cut down a pretty large and leafy branch +of a tree, and placed it in the bow of the canoe in such a way as to +hang down before it and form a perfect screen, through the interstices +of which he could see the geese, while they could only see, what was to +them no novelty, the branch of a tree floating down the stream. Having +gently launched the canoe, Charley was soon close to the unsuspecting +birds, from among which he selected one that appeared to be unusually +complacent and self-satisfied, concluding at once, with an amount of +wisdom that bespoke him a true philosopher, that such _must_ as a +matter of course be the fattest. + +“Bang” went the gun, and immediately the sleek goose turned round upon +its back and stretched out its feet towards the sky, waving them once +or twice as if bidding adieu to its friends. The others thereupon took +to flight, with such a deal of sputter and noise as made it quite +apparent that their astonishment was unfeigned. Bang went the gun +again, and down fell a second goose. + +“Ha!” exclaimed Jacques, throwing down the remainder of the cargo as +Charley landed with his booty, “that’s well. I was just thinking as I +comed across that we should have to take to pemmican to-night.” + +“Well, Jacques, and if we had, I’m sure an old hunter like you, who +have roughed it so often, need not complain,” said Charley, smiling. + +“As to that, master,” replied Jacques, “I’ve roughed it often enough; +and when it does come to a clear fix, I can eat my shoes without +grumblin’ as well as any man. But, you see, fresh meat is better than +dried meat when it’s to be had; and so I’m glad to see that you’ve been +lucky, Mr. Charles.” + +“To say truth, so am I; and these fellows are delightfully plump. But +you spoke of eating your shoes, Jacques. When were you reduced to that +direful extremity?” + +Jacques finished reloading the canoe while they conversed, and the two +were seated in their places, and quietly but swiftly ascending the +stream again, ere the hunter replied. + +“You’ve heerd of Sir John Franklin, I s’pose?” he inquired, after a +minute’s consideration. + +“Yes, often.” + +“An’ p’r’aps you’ve heerd tell of his first trip of discovery along the +shores of the Polar Sea?” + +“Do you refer to the time when he was nearly starved to death, and when +poor Hood was shot by the Indian?” + +“The same,” said Jacques. + +“Oh, yes; I know all about that. Were you with them?” inquired Charley, +in great surprise. + +“Why, no—not exactly _on_ the trip; but I was sent in winter with +provisions to them—and much need they had of them, poor fellows! I +found them tearing away at some old parchment skins that had lain under +the snow all winter, and that an Injin’s dog would ha’ turned up his +nose at—and they don’t turn up their snouts at many things, I can tell +ye. Well, after we had left all our provisions with them, we started +for the fort again, just keepin’ as much as would drive off starvation; +for, you see, we thought that surely we would git something on the +road. But neither hoof nor feather did we see all the way (I was +travellin’ with an Injin), and our grub was soon done, though we saved +it up, and only took a mouthful or two the last three days. At last it +was done, and we was pretty well used up, and the fort two days ahead +of us. So says I to my comrade—who had been looking at me for some time +as if he thought that a cut off my shoulder wouldn’t be a bad +thing—says I, ‘Nipitabo, I’m afeard the shoes must go for it now;’ so +with that I pulls out a pair o’ deerskin moccasins. ‘They looks +tender,’ said I, trying to be cheerful. ‘Wah!’ said the Injin; and then +I held them over the fire till they was done black, and Nipitabo ate +one, and I ate the tother, with a lump o’ snow to wash it down!” + +“It must have been rather dry eating,” said Charley, laughing. + +“Rayther; but it was better than the Injin’s leather breeches, which we +took in hand next day. They was _uncommon_ tough, and very dirty, +havin’ been worn about a year and a half. Hows’ever, they kept us up; +an’ as we only ate the legs, he had the benefit o’ the stump to arrive +with at the fort next day.” + +“What’s yon ahead?” exclaimed Charley, pausing as he spoke, and shading +his eyes with his hand. + +“It’s uncommon like trees,” said Jacques. “It’s likely a tree that’s +been tumbled across the river; and from its appearance, I think we’ll +have to cut through it.” + +“Cut through it!” exclaimed Charley; “if my sight is worth a gun-flint, +we’ll have to cut through a dozen trees.” + +Charley was right. The river ahead of them became rapidly narrower; and +either from the looseness of the surrounding soil, or the passing of a +whirlwind, dozens of trees had been upset, and lay right across the +narrow stream in terrible confusion. What made the thing worse was that +the banks on either side, which were low and flat, were covered with +such a dense thicket down to the water’s edge, that the idea of making +a portage to overcome the barrier seemed altogether hopeless. + +“Here’s a pretty business, to be sure!” cried Charley, in great +disgust. + +“Never say die, Mister Charles,” replied Jacques, taking up the axe +from the bottom of the canoe; “it’s quite clear that cuttin’ through +the trees is easier than cuttin’ through the bushes, so here goes.” + +For fully three hours the travellers were engaged in cutting their way +up the encumbered stream, during which time they did not advance three +miles; and it was evening ere they broke down the last barrier and +paddled out into a sheet of clear water again. + +“That’ll prepare us for the geese, Jacques,” said Charley, as he wiped +the perspiration from his brow; “there’s nothing like warm work for +whetting the appetite, and making one sleep soundly.” + +“That’s true,” replied the hunter, resuming his paddle. “I often wonder +how them white-faced fellows in the settlements manage to keep body and +soul together—a-sittin’, as they do, all day in the house, and a-lyin’ +all night in a feather bed. For my part, rather than live as they do, I +would cut my way up streams like them we’ve just passed every day and +all day, and sleep on top of a flat rock o’ nights, under the blue sky, +all my life through.” + +With this decided expression of his sentiments, the stout hunter +steered the canoe up alongside of a huge flat rock, as if he were bent +on giving a practical illustration of the latter part of his speech +then and there. + +“We’d better camp now, Mister Charles; there’s a portage o’ two miles +here, and it’ll take us till sundown to get the canoe and things over.” + +“Be it so,” said Charley, landing. “Is there a good place at the other +end to camp on?” + +“First-rate. It’s smooth as a blanket on the turf, and a clear spring +bubbling at the root of a wide tree that would keep off the rain if it +was to come down like water-spouts.” + +The spot on which the travellers encamped that evening overlooked one +of those scenes in which vast extent, and rich, soft variety of natural +objects, were united with much that was grand and savage. It filled the +mind with the calm satisfaction that is experienced when one gazes on +the wide lawns studded with noble trees; the spreading fields of waving +grain that mingle with stream and copse, rock and dell, vineyard and +garden, of the cultivated lands of civilized men; while it produced +that exulting throb of freedom which stirs man’s heart to its centre, +when he casts a first glance over miles and miles of broad lands that +are yet unowned, unclaimed; that yet lie in the unmutilated beauty with +which the beneficent Creator originally clothed them—far away from the +well-known scenes of man’s checkered history; entirely devoid of those +ancient monuments of man’s power and skill that carry the mind back +with feelings of awe to bygone ages, yet stamped with evidences of an +antiquity more ancient still in the wild primeval forests, and the +noble trees that have sprouted, and spread, and towered in their +strength for centuries—trees that have fallen at their posts, while +others took their place, and rose and fell as they did, like long-lived +sentinels whose duty it was to keep perpetual guard over the vast +solitudes of the great American Wilderness. + +The fire was lighted, and the canoe turned bottom up in front of it, +under the branches of a spreading tree which stood on an eminence, +whence was obtained a bird’s-eye view of the noble scene. It was a flat +valley, on either side of which rose two ranges of hills, which were +clothed to the top with trees of various kinds, the plain of the valley +itself being dotted with clumps of wood, among which the fresh green +foliage of the plane tree and the silver-stemmed birch were +conspicuous, giving an airy lightness to the scene and enhancing the +picturesque effect of the dark pines. A small stream could be traced +winding out and in among clumps of willows, reflecting their drooping +boughs and the more sombre branches of the spruce fir and the straight +larch, with which in many places its banks were shaded. Here and there +were stretches of clearer ground where the green herbage of spring gave +to it a lawn-like appearance, and the whole magnificent scene was +bounded by blue hills that became fainter as they receded from the eye +and mingled at last with the horizon. The sun had just set, and a rich +glow of red bathed the whole scene, which was further enlivened by +flocks of wild-fowls and herds of reindeer. + +These last soon drew Charley’s attention from the contemplation of the +scenery, and observing a deer feeding in an open space, towards which +he could approach without coming between it and the wind, he ran for +his gun and hurried into the woods while Jacques busied himself in +arranging their blankets under the upturned canoe, and in preparing +supper. + +Charley discovered soon after starting, what all hunters discover +sooner or later—namely, that appearances are deceitful; for he no +sooner reached the foot of the hill than he found, between him and the +lawn-like country, an almost impenetrable thicket of underwood. Our +young hero, however, was of that disposition which sticks at nothing, +and instead of taking time to search for an opening, he took a race and +sprang into the middle of it, in hopes of forcing his way through. His +hopes were not disappointed. He got through—quite through—and alighted +up to the armpits in a swamp, to the infinite consternation of a flock +of teal ducks that were slumbering peacefully there with their heads +under their wings, and had evidently gone to bed for the night. +Fortunately he held his gun above the water and kept his balance, so +that he was able to proceed with a dry charge, though with an +uncommonly wet skin. Half-an-hour brought Charley within range, and +watching patiently until the animal presented his side towards the +place of his concealment, he fired and shot it through the heart. + +“Well done, Mister Charles,” exclaimed Jacques, as the former staggered +into camp with the reindeer on his shoulders. “A fat doe, too.” + +“Ay,” said Charley; “but she has cost me a wet skin. So pray, Jacques, +rouse up the fire, and let’s have supper as soon as you can.” + +Jacques speedily skinned the deer, cut a couple of steaks from its +flank, and placing them on wooden spikes, stuck them up to roast, while +his young friend put on a dry shirt, and hung his coat before the +blaze. The goose which had been shot earlier in the day was also +plucked, split open, impaled in the same manner as the steaks, and set +up to roast. By this time the shadows of night had deepened, and ere +long all was shrouded in gloom, except the circle of ruddy light around +the camp fire, in the centre of which Jacques and Charley sat, with the +canoe at their backs, knives in their hands, and the two spits, on the +top of which smoked their ample supper, planted in the ground before +them. + +One by one the stars went out, until none were visible except the +bright, beautiful morning star, as it rose higher and higher in the +eastern sky. One by one the owls and the wolves, ill-omened birds and +beasts of night, retired to rest in the dark recesses of the forest. +Little by little, the gray dawn overspread the sky, and paled the +lustre of the morning star, until it faded away altogether; and then +Jacques awoke with a start, and throwing out his arm, brought it +accidentally into violent contact with Charley’s nose. + +This caused Charley to awake, not only with a start, but also with a +roar, which brought them both suddenly into a sitting posture, in which +they continued for some time in a state between sleeping and waking, +their faces meanwhile expressive of mingled imbecility and extreme +surprise. Bursting into a simultaneous laugh, which degenerated into a +loud yawn, they sprang up, launched and reloaded their canoe, and +resumed their journey. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +The Indian camp—The new outpost—Charley sent on a mission to the +Indians. + + +In the councils of the fur-traders, on the spring previous to that +about which we are now writing, it had been decided to extend their +operations a little in the lands that lie in central America, to the +north of the Saskatchewan River; and in furtherance of that object, it +had been intimated to the chief trader in charge of the district that +an expedition should be set on foot, having for its object the +examination of a territory into which they had not yet penetrated, and +the establishment of an outpost therein. It was, furthermore, ordered +that operations should be commenced at once, and that the choice of men +to carry out the end in view was graciously left to the chief trader’s +well-known sagacity. + +Upon receiving this communication, the chief trader selected a +gentleman named Mr. Whyte to lead the party; gave him a clerk and five +men, provided him with a boat and a large supply of goods necessary for +trade, implements requisite for building an establishment, and sent him +off with a hearty shake of the hand and a recommendation to “go and +prosper.” + +Charles Kennedy spent part of the previous year at Rocky Mountain +House, where he had shown so much energy in conducting the trade, +especially what he called the “rough and tumble” part of it, that he +was selected as the clerk to accompany Mr. Whyte to his new ground. +After proceeding up many rivers, whose waters had seldom borne the +craft of white men, and across innumerable lakes, the party reached a +spot that presented so inviting an aspect that it was resolved to pitch +their tent there for a time, and, if things in the way of trade and +provision looked favourable, establish themselves altogether. The place +was situated on the margin of a large lake, whose shores were covered +with the most luxuriant verdure, and whose waters teemed with the +finest fish, while the air was alive with wild-fowl, and the woods +swarming with game. Here Mr. Whyte rested awhile; and having found +everything to his satisfaction, he took his axe, selected a green lawn +that commanded an extensive view of the lake, and going up to a tall +larch, struck the steel into it, and thus put the first touch to an +establishment which afterwards went by the name of Stoney Creek. + +A solitary Indian, whom they had met with on the way to their new home, +had informed them that a large band of Knisteneux had lately migrated +to a river about four days’ journey beyond the lake at which they +halted; and when the new fort was just beginning to spring up, our +friend Charley and the interpreter, Jacques Caradoc, were ordered by +Mr. Whyte to make a canoe, and then, embarking in it, to proceed to the +Indian camp, to inform the natives of their rare good luck in having a +band of white men come to settle near their lands to trade with them. +The interpreter and Charley soon found birch bark, pine roots for +sewing it, and gum for plastering the seams, wherewith they constructed +the light machine whose progress we have partly traced in the last +chapter, and which, on the following day at sunset, carried them to +their journey’s end. + +From some remarks made by the Indian who gave them information of the +camp, Charley gathered that it was the tribe to which Redfeather +belonged, and furthermore that Redfeather himself was there at the +time; so that it was with feelings of no little interest that he saw +the tops of the yellow tents embedded among the green trees, and soon +afterwards beheld them and their picturesque owners reflected in the +clear river, on whose banks the natives crowded to witness the arrival +of the white men. + +Upon the greensward, and under the umbrageous shade of the forest +trees, the tents were pitched to the number of perhaps eighteen or +twenty, and the whole population, of whom very few were absent on the +present occasion, might number a hundred—men, women, and children. They +were dressed in habiliments formed chiefly of materials procured by +themselves in the chase, but ornamented with cloth, beads, and silk +thread, which showed that they had had intercourse with the fur-traders +before now. The men wore leggings of deerskin, which reached more than +half-way up the thigh, and were fastened to a leathern girdle strapped +round the waist. A loose tunic or hunting-shirt of the same material +covered the figure from the shoulders almost to the knees, and was +confined round the middle by a belt—in some cases of worsted, in others +of leather gaily ornamented with quills. Caps of various indescribable +shapes, and made chiefly of skin, with the animal’s tail left on by way +of ornament, covered their heads, and moccasins for the feet completed +their costume. These last may be simply described as leather mittens +for the feet, without fingers, or rather toes. They were gaudily +ornamented, as was almost every portion of costume, with porcupines’ +quills dyed with brilliant colours, and worked into fanciful, and in +many cases extremely elegant, figures and designs; for North American +Indians oftentimes display an amount of taste in the harmonious +arrangement of colour that would astonish those who fancy that +_education_ is absolutely necessary to the just appreciation of the +beautiful. + +The women attired themselves in leggings and coats differing little +from those of the men, except that the latter were longer, the sleeves +detached from the body, and fastened on separately; while on their +heads they wore caps, which hung down and covered their backs to the +waist. These caps were of the simplest construction, being pieces of +cloth cut into an oblong shape, and sewed together at one end. They +were, however, richly ornamented with silk-work and beads. + +On landing, Charley and Jacques walked up to a tall, good-looking +Indian, whom they judged from his demeanour, and the somewhat +deferential regard paid to him by the others, to be one of the chief +men of the little community. + +“Ho! what cheer?” said Jacques, taking him by the hand after the manner +of Europeans, and accosting him with the phrase used by the fur-traders +to the natives. The Indian returned the compliment in kind, and led the +visitors to his tent, where he spread a buffalo robe for them on the +ground, and begged them to be seated. A repast of dried meat and +reindeer-tongues was then served, to which our friends did ample +justice; while the women and children satisfied their curiosity by +peering at them through chinks and holes in the tent. When they had +finished, several of the principal men assembled, and the chief who had +entertained them made a speech, to the effect that he was much +gratified by the honour done to his people by the visit of his white +brothers; that he hoped they would continue long at the camp to enjoy +their hospitality; and that he would be glad to know what had brought +them so far into the country of the red men. + +During the course of this speech the chief made eloquent allusion to +all the good qualities supposed to belong to white men in general, and +(he had no doubt) to the two white men before him in particular. He +also boasted considerably of the prowess and bravery of himself and his +tribe, launched a few sarcastic hits at his enemies, and wound up with +a poetical hope that his guests might live for ever in these beautiful +plains of bliss, where the sun never sets, and nothing goes wrong +anywhere, and everything goes right at all times, and where, +especially, the deer are outrageously fat, and always come out on +purpose to be shot! During the course of these remarks his comrades +signified their hearty concurrence to his sentiments, by giving vent to +sundry low-toned “hums!” and “has!” and “wahs!” and “hos!” according to +circumstances. After it was over Jacques rose, and addressing them in +their own language, said,— + +“My Indian brethren are great. They are brave, and their fame has +travelled far. Their deeds are known even so far as where the Great +Salt Lake beats on the shore where the sun rises. They are not women, +and when their enemies hear the sound of their name they grow pale; +their hearts become like those of the reindeer. My brethren are famous, +too, in the use of the snow-shoe, the snare, and the gun. The +fur-traders know that they must build large stores when they come into +their lands. They bring up much goods, because the young men are +active, and require much. The silver fox and the marten are no longer +safe when their traps and snares are set. Yes, they are good hunters: +and we have now come to live among you” (Jacques changed his style as +he came nearer to the point), “to trade with you, and to save you the +trouble of making long journeys with your skins. A few days’ distance +from your wigwams we have pitched our tents. Our young men are even now +felling the trees to build a house. Our nets are set, our hunters are +prowling in the woods, our goods are ready, and my young master and I +have come to smoke the pipe of friendship with you, and to invite you +to come to trade with us.” + +Having delivered this oration, Jacques sat down amid deep silence. +Other speeches, of a highly satisfactory character, were then made, +after which “the house adjourned,” and the visitors, opening one of +their packages, distributed a variety of presents to the delighted +natives. + +Several times during the course of these proceedings, Charley’s eyes +wandered among the faces of his entertainers, in the hope of seeing +Redfeather among them, but without success; and he began to fear that +his friend was not with the tribe. + +“I say, Jacques,” he said, as they left the tent, “ask whether a chief +called Redfeather is here. I knew him of old, and half expected to find +him at this place.” + +The Indian to whom Jacques put the question replied that Redfeather was +with them, but that he had gone out on a hunting expedition that +morning, and might be absent a day or two. + +“Ah!” exclaimed Charley, “I’m glad he’s here. Come, now, let us take a +walk in the wood; these good people stare at us as if we were ghosts.” +And taking Jacques’s arm, he led him beyond the circuit of the camp, +turned into a path which, winding among the thick underwood, speedily +screened them from view, and led them into a sequestered glade, through +which a rivulet trickled along its course, almost hid from view by the +dense foliage and long grasses that overhung it. + +“What a delightful place to live in!” said Charley. “Do you ever think +of building a hut in such a spot as this, Jacques, and settling down +altogether?” Charley’s thoughts reverted to his sister Kate when he +said this. + +“Why, no,” replied Jacques, in a pensive tone, as if the question had +aroused some sorrowful recollections; “I can’t say that I’d like to +settle here _now_. There was a time when I thought nothin’ could be +better than to squat in the woods with one or two jolly comrades, and—” +(Jacques sighed); “but times is changed now, master, and so is my mind. +My chums are most of them dead or gone one way or other. No; I +shouldn’t care to squat alone.” + +Charley thought of the hut _without_ Kate, and it seemed so desolate +and dreary a dwelling, notwithstanding its beautiful situation, that he +agreed with his companion that to “squat” _alone_ would never do at +all. + +“No, man was not made to live alone,” continued Jacques, pursuing the +subject; “even the Injins draw together. I never knew but one as didn’t +like his fellows, and he’s gone now, poor fellow. He cut his foot with +an axe one day, while fellin’ a tree. It was a bad cut; and havin’ +nobody to look after him, he half bled and half starved to death.” + +“By the way, Jacques,” said Charley, stepping over the clear brook, and +following the track which led up the opposite bank, “what did you say +to those red-skins? You made them a most eloquent speech apparently.” + +“Why, as to that, I can’t boast much of its eloquence, but I think it +was clear enough. I told them that they were a great nation; for you +see, Mr. Charles, the red men are just like the white in their fondness +for butter; so I gave them some to begin with, though, for the matter +o’ that, I’m not overly fond o’ givin’ butter to any man, red or white. +But I holds that it’s as well always to fall in with the ways and +customs o’ the people a man happens to be among, so long as them ways +and customs a’n’t contrary to what’s right. It makes them feel more +kindly to you, and don’t raise any onnecessary ill-will. However, the +Knisteneux _are_ a brave race; and when I told them that the hearts of +their enemies trembled when they heard of them, I told nothing but the +truth; for the Chipewyans are a miserable set, and not much given to +fighting.” + +“Your principles on that point won’t stand much sifting, I fear,” +replied Charley: “according to your own showing, you would fall into +the Chipewyan’s way of glorifying themselves on account of their +bravery, if you chanced to be dwelling among them, and yet you say they +are not brave. That would not be sticking to truth, Jacques, would it?” + +“Well,” replied Jacques with a smile, “perhaps not exactly, but I’m +sure there could be small harm in helping the miserable objects to +boast sometimes, for they’ve little else than boasting to comfort +them.” + +“And yet, Jacques, I cannot help feeling that truth is a grand, a +glorious thing, that should not be trifled with even in small matters.” + +Jacques opened his eyes a little. “Then do you think, master, that a +man should _never_ tell a lie, no matter what fix he may be in?” + +“I think not, Jacques.” + +The hunter paused a few minutes, and looked as if an unusual train of +ideas had been raised in his mind by the turn their conversation had +taken. Jacques was a man of no religion, and little morality, beyond +what flowed from a naturally kind, candid disposition, and entertained +the belief that the _end_, if a good one, always justifies the +_means_—a doctrine which, had it been clearly exposed to him in all its +bearings and results, would have been spurned by his straightforward +nature with the indignant contempt that it merits. + +“Mr. Charles,” he said at length, “I once travelled across the plains +to the head waters of the Missouri with a party of six trappers. One +night we came to a part of the plains which was very much broken up +with wood here and there, and bein’ a good place for water we camped. +While the other lads were gettin’ ready the supper, I started off to +look for a deer, as we had been unlucky that day—we had shot nothin’. +Well, about three miles from the camp I came upon a band o’ somewhere +about thirty Sieux (ill-looking, sneaking dogs they are, too!), and +before I could whistle they rushed upon me, took away my rifle and +hunting-knife, and were dancing round me like so many devils. At last a +big black-lookin’ thief stepped forward, and said in the Cree language, +‘White men seldom travel through this country alone; where are your +comrades?’ Now, thought I, here’s a nice fix! If I pretend not to +understand, they’ll send out parties in all directions, and as sure as +fate they’ll find my companions in half-an-hour, and butcher them in +cold blood (for, you see, we did not expect to find Sieux, or indeed +any Injins, in them parts); so I made believe to be very narvous, and +tried to tremble all over and look pale. Did you ever try to look pale +and frighttened, Mr. Charles?” + +“I can’t say that I ever did,” said Charley, laughing. + +“You can’t think how troublesome it is,” continued Jacques, with a look +of earnest simplicity. “I shook and trembled pretty well, but the more +I tried to grow pale, the more I grew red in the face, and when I +thought of the six broad-shouldered, raw-boned lads in the camp, and +how easy they would have made these jumping villains fly like chaff if +they only knew the fix I was in, I gave a frown that had well-nigh +showed I was shamming. Hows’ever, what with shakin’ a little more and +givin’ one or two most awful groans, I managed to deceive them. Then I +said I was hunter to a party of white men that were travellin’ from Red +River to St. Louis, with all their goods, and wives, and children, and +that they were away in the plains about a league off. + +“The big chap looked very hard into my face when I said this, to see if +I was telling the truth; and I tried to make my teeth chatter, but it +wouldn’t do, so I took to groanin’ very bad instead. But them Sieux are +such awful liars nat’rally that they couldn’t understand the signs of +truth, even if they saw them. ‘Whitefaced coward,’ said he to me, ‘tell +me in what direction your people are.’ At this I made believe not to +understand; but the big chap flourished his knife before my face, +called me a dog, and told me to point out the direction. I looked as +simple as I could and said I would rather not. At this they laughed +loudly and then gave a yell, and said if I didn’t show them the +direction they would roast me alive. So I pointed towards apart of the +plains pretty wide o’ the spot where our camp was. ‘Now lead us to +them,’ said the big chap, givin’ me a shove with the butt of his gun; +‘an’ if you have told lies—‘he gave the handle of his scalpin’-knife a +slap, as much as to say he’d tickle up my liver with it. Well, away we +went in silence, me thinkin’ all the time how I was to get out o’ the +scrape. I led them pretty close past our camp, hopin’ that the lads +would hear us. I didn’t dare to yell out, as that would have showed +them there was somebody within hearin’, and they would have made short +work of me. Just as we came near the place where my companions lay, a +prairie wolf sprang out from under a bush where it had been sleepin’, +so I gave a loud hurrah, and shied my cap at it. Giving a loud growl, +the big Injin hit me over the head with his fist, and told me to keep +silence. In a few minutes I heard the low, distant howl of a wolf. I +recognised the voice of one of my comrades, and knew that they had seen +us, and would be on our track soon. Watchin’ my opportunity, and +walkin’ for a good bit as if I was awful tired—all but done up—to throw +them off their guard, I suddenly tripped up the big chap as he was +stepping over a small brook, and dived in among the bushes. In a moment +a dozen bullets tore up the bark on the trees about me, and an arrow +passed through my hair. The clump of wood into which I had dived was +about half-a-mile long; and as I could run well (I’ve found in my +experience that white men are more than a match for red-skins at their +own work), I was almost out of range by the time I was forced to quit +the cover and take to the plain. When the blackguards got out of the +cover, too, and saw me cuttin’ ahead like a deer, they gave a yell of +disappointment, and sent another shower of arrows and bullets after me, +some of which came nearer than was pleasant. I then headed for our camp +with the whole pack screechin’ at my heels. ‘Yell away, you stupid +sinners,’ thought I; ‘some of you shall pay for your music.’ At that +moment an arrow grazed my shoulder, and looking over it, I saw that the +black fellow I had pitched into the water was far ahead of the rest, +strainin’ after me like mad, and every now and then stopping to try an +arrow on me; so I kept a look-out, and when I saw him stop to draw, I +stopped too, and dodged, so the arrows passed me, and then we took to +our heels again. In this way I ran for dear life till I came up to the +cover. As I came close up I saw our six fellows crouchin’ in the +bushes, and one o’ them takin’ aim almost straight for my face. ‘Your +day’s come at last,’ thought I, looking over my shoulder at the big +Injin, who was drawing his bow again. Just then there was a sharp crack +heard; a bullet whistled past my ear, and the big fellow fell like a +stone, while my comrade stood coolly up to reload his rifle. The +Injins, on seein’ this, pulled up in a moment; and our lads stepping +forward, delivered a volley that made three more o’ them bite the dust. +There would have been six in that fix, but, somehow or other, three of +us pitched upon the same man, who was afterwards found with a bullet in +each eye, and one through his heart. They didn’t wait for more, but +turned about and bolted like the wind. Now, Mr. Charles, if I had told +the truth that time, we would have been all killed; and if I had simply +said nothin’ to their questions, they would have sent out to scour the +country, and have found out the camp for sartin, so that the only way +to escape was by tellin’ them a heap o’ downright lies.” + +Charley looked very much perplexed at this. + +“You have indeed placed me in a difficulty. I know not what I would +have done. I don’t know even what I _ought to do_ under these +circumstances. Difficulties may perplex me, and the force of +circumstances might tempt me to do what I believed to be wrong. I am a +sinner, Jacques, like other mortals, I know; but one thing I am quite +sure of—namely, that when men speak it should _always_ be truth and +_never_ falsehood.” + +Jacques looked perplexed too. He was strongly impressed with the +necessity of telling falsehoods in the circumstances in which he had +been placed, as just related, while at the same time he felt deeply the +grandeur and the power of Charley’s last remark. + +“I should have been under the sod _now_,” said he, “if I had not told a +lie _then_. Is it better to die than to speak falsehood?” + +“Some men have thought so,” replied Charley. “I acknowledge the +difficulty of _your_ case and of all similar cases. I don’t know what +should be done, but I have read of a minister of the gospel whose +people were very wicked and would not attend to his instructions, +although they could not but respect himself, he was so consistent and +Christianlike in his conduct. Persecution arose in the country where he +lived, and men and women were cruelly murdered because of their +religious belief. For a long time he was left unmolested, but one day a +band of soldiers came to his house, and asked him whether he was a +Papist or a Protestant (Papist, Jacques, being a man who has sold his +liberty in religious matters to the Pope, and a Protestant being one +who protests against such an ineffably silly and unmanly state of +slavery). Well, his people urged the good old man to say he was a +Papist, telling him that he would then be spared to live among them, +and preach the true faith for many years perhaps. Now, if there was one +thing that this old man would have toiled for and died for, it was that +his people should become true Christians—and he told them so; ‘but,’ he +added, ‘I will not tell a lie to accomplish that end, my children—no, +not even to save my life.’ So he told the soldiers that he was a +Protestant, and immediately they carried him away, and he was soon +afterwards burned to death.” + +“Well,” said Jacques, “_he_ didn’t gain much by sticking to the truth, +I think.” + +“I’m not so sure of _that_. The story goes on to say that he _rejoiced_ +that he had done so, and wouldn’t draw back even when he was in the +flames. But the point lies here, Jacques: so deep an impression did the +old man’s conduct make on his people, that from that day forward they +were noted for their Christian life and conduct. They brought up their +children with a deeper reverence for the truth than they would +otherwise have done, always bearing in affectionate remembrance, and +holding up to them as an example, the unflinching truthfulness of the +good old man who was burned in the year of the terrible persecutions; +and at last their influence and example had such an effect that the +Protestant religion spread like wild-fire, far and wide around them, so +that the very thing was accomplished for which the old pastor said he +would have died—accomplished, too, very much in consequence of his +death, and in a way and to an extent that very likely would not have +been the case had he lived and preached among them for a hundred +years.” + +“I don’t understand it, nohow,” said Jacques; “it seems to me right +both ways and wrong both ways, and all upside down every how.” + +Charley smiled. “Your remark is about as clear as my head on the +subject, Jacques; but I still remain convinced that truth is _right_ +and that falsehood is _wrong_, and that we should stick to the first +through thick and thin.” + +“I s’pose,” remarked the hunter, who had walked along in deep +cogitation, for the last five minutes, and had apparently come to some +conclusion of profound depth and sagacity—“I s’pose that it’s all human +natur’; that some men takes to preachin’ as Injins take to huntin’, and +that to understand sich things requires them to begin young,’ and risk +their lives in it, as I would in followin’ up a grizzly she-bear with +cubs.” + +“Yonder is an illustration of one part of your remark. They begin +_young_ enough, anyhow,” said Charley, pointing as he spoke to an +opening in the bushes, where a particularly small Indian boy stood in +the act of discharging an arrow. + +The two men halted to watch his movements. According to a common custom +among juvenile Indians during the warm months of the year, he was +dressed in _nothing_ save a mere rag tied round his waist. His body was +very brown, extremely round, fat, and wonderfully diminutive, while his +little legs and arms were disproportionately small. He was so young as +to be barely able to walk, and yet there he stood, his black eyes +glittering with excitement, his tiny bow bent to its utmost, and a +blunt-headed arrow about to be discharged at a squirrel, whose flight +had been suddenly arrested by the unexpected apparition of Charley and +Jacques. As he stood there for a single instant, perfectly motionless, +he might have been mistaken for a grotesque statue of an Indian cupid. +Taking advantage of the squirrel’s pause the child let fly the arrow, +hit it exactly on the point of the nose, and turned it over, dead—a +consummation which he greeted with a rapid succession of frightful +yells. + +“Cleverly done, my lad; you’re a chip of the old block, I see,” said +Jacques, patting the child’s head as he passed, and retraced his steps, +with Charley, to the Indian camp. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +The feast—Charley makes his first speech in public, and meets with an +old friend—An evening in the grass. + + +Savages, not less than civilized men, are fond of a good dinner. In +saying this, we do not expect our reader to be overwhelmed with +astonishment. He might have guessed as much; but when we state that +savages, upon particular occasions, eat six dinners in one, and make it +a point of honour to do so, we apprehend that we have thrown a slightly +new light on an old subject. Doubtless there are men in civilised +society who would do likewise if they could; but they cannot, +fortunately, as great gastronomic powers are dependent on severe, +healthful, and prolonged physical exertion. Therefore it is that in +England we find men capable only of eating about two dinners at once, +and suffering a good deal for it afterwards; while in the backwoods we +see men consume a week’s dinners in one, without any evil consequences +following the act. + +The feast which was given by the Knisteneux in honour of the visit of +our two friends was provided on a more moderate scale than usual, in +order to accommodate the capacities of the “white men;” three days’ +allowance being cooked for each man. (Women are never admitted to the +public feasts.) On the day preceding the ceremony, Charley and Jacques +had received cards of invitation from the principal chief in the shape +of two quills; similar invites being issued at the same time to all the +braves. Jacques being accustomed to the doings of the Indians, and +aware of the fact that whatever was provided for each man _must_ be +eaten before he quitted the scene of operations, advised Charley to eat +no breakfast, and to take a good walk as a preparative. Charley had +strong faith, however, in his digestive powers, and felt much inclined, +when morning came, to satisfy the cravings of his appetite as usual; +but Jacques drew such a graphic picture of the work that lay before +him, that he forbore to urge the matter, and went off to walk with a +light step, and an uncomfortable feeling of vacuity about the region of +the stomach. + +About noon, the chiefs and braves assembled in an open enclosure +situated in an exposed place on the banks of the river, where the +proceedings were watched by the women, children, and dogs. The oldest +chief sat himself down on the turf at one end of the enclosure, with +Jacques Caradoc on his right hand, and next to him Charley Kennedy, who +had ornamented himself with a blue stripe painted down the middle of +his nose, and a red bar across his chin. Charley’s propensity for fun +had led him thus to decorate his face, in spite of his companion’s +remonstrances,—urging, by way of excuse, that worthy’s former argument, +“that it was well to fall in with the ways o’ the people a man happened +to be among, so long as these ways and customs were not contrary to +what was right.” Now Charley was sure there was nothing wrong in his +painting his nose sky blue, if he thought fit. + +Jacques thought it was absurd, and entertained the opinion that it +would be more dignified to leave his face “its nat’ral colour.” + +Charley didn’t agree with him at all. He thought it would be paying the +Indians a high compliment to follow their customs as far as possible, +and said that, after all, his blue nose would not be very conspicuous, +as he (Jacques) had told him that he would “look blue” at any rate when +he saw the quantity of deer’s meat he should have to devour. + +Jacques laughed at this, but suggested that the bar across his chin was +_red_. Whereupon Charley said that he could easily neutralise that by +putting a green star under each eye; and then uttered a fervent wish +that his friend Harry Somerville could only see him in that guise. +Finding him incorrigible, Jacques, who, notwithstanding his +remonstrances, was more than half imbued with Charley’s spirit, gave +in, and accompanied him to the feast, himself decorated with the +additional ornament of a red night-cap, to whose crown was attached a +tuft of white feathers. + +A fire burned in the centre of the enclosure, round which the Indians +seated themselves according to seniority, and with deep solemnity; for +it is a trait in the Indian’s character that all his ceremonies are +performed with extreme gravity. Each man brought a dish or platter, and +a wooden spoon. + +The old chief, whose hair was very gray, and his face covered with old +wounds and scars, received either in war or in hunting, having seated +himself, allowed a few minutes to elapse in silence, during which the +company sat motionless, gazing at their plates as if they half expected +them to become converted into beefsteaks. While they were seated thus, +another party of Indians, who had been absent on a hunting expedition, +strode rapidly but noiselessly into the enclosure, and seated +themselves in the circle. One of these passed close to Charley, and in +doing so stooped, took his hand, and pressed it. Charley looked up in +surprise, and beheld the face of his old friend Redfeather, gazing at +him with an expression in which were mingled affection, surprise, and +amusement at the peculiar alteration in his visage. + +“Redfeather!” exclaimed Charlie, in delight, half rising, but the +Indian pressed him down. + +“You must not rise,” he whispered, and giving his hand another squeeze, +passed round the circle, and took his place directly opposite. + +Having continued motionless for five minutes with becoming gravity, the +company began operations by proceeding to smoke out of the sacred +stem—a ceremony which precedes—all occasions of importance, and is +conducted as follows:—The sacred stem is placed on two forked sticks to +prevent its touching the ground, as that would be considered a great +evil. A stone pipe is then filled with tobacco, by an attendant +specially appointed to that office, and affixed to the stem, which is +presented to the principal chief. That individual, with a gravity and +_hauteur_ that is unsurpassed in the annals of pomposity, receives the +pipe in both hands, blows a puff to the east (probably in consequence +of its being the quarter whence the sun rises), and thereafter pays a +similar mark of attention to the other three points. He then raises the +pipe above his head, points and balances it in various directions (for +what reason and with what end in view is best known to himself), and +replaces it again on the forks. The company meanwhile observe his +proceedings with sedate interest, evidently imbued with the idea that +they are deriving from the ceremony a vast amount of edification—an +idea which is helped out, doubtless, by the appearance of the women and +children, who surround the enclosure, and gaze at the proceedings with +looks of awe-struck seriousness that is quite solemnizing to behold. + +The chief then makes a speech relative to the circumstance which has +called them together; and which is always more or less interlarded with +boastful reference to his own deeds, past, present, and prospective, +eulogistic remarks on those of his forefathers, and a general +condemnation of all other Indian tribes whatever. These speeches are +usually delivered with great animation, and contain much poetic +allusion to the objects of nature that surround the homes of the +savage. The speech being finished, the chief sits down amid a universal +“Ho!” uttered by the company with an emphatic prolongation of the last +letter—this syllable being the Indian substitute, we presume, for +“rapturous applause.” + +The chief who officiated on the present occasion, having accomplished +the opening ceremonies thus far, sat down; while the pipe-bearer +presented the sacred stem to the members of the company in succession, +each of whom drew a few whiffs and mumbled a few words. + +“Do as you see the red-skins, Mr. Charles,” whispered Jacques, while +the pipe was going round. + +“That’s impossible,” replied Charley, in a tone that could not be heard +except by his friend. “I couldn’t make a face of hideous solemnity like +that black thief opposite if I was to try ever so hard.” + +“Don’t let them think you’re laughing at them,” returned the hunter; +“they would be ill-pleased if they thought so.” + +“I’ll try,” said Charley, “but it is hard work, Jacques, to keep from +laughing; I feel like a high-pressure steam-engine already. There’s a +woman standing out there with a little brown baby on her back; she has +quite fascinated me; I can’t keep my eyes off her, and if she goes on +contorting her visage much longer, I feel that I shall give way.” + +“Hush!” + +At this moment the pipe was presented to Charley, who put it to his +lips, drew three whiffs, and returned it with a bland smile to the +bearer. + +The smile was a very sweet one, for that was a peculiar trait in the +native urbanity of Charley’s disposition, and it would have gone far in +civilized society to prepossess strangers in his favour; but it lowered +him considerably in the estimation of his red friends, who entertained +a wholesome feeling of contempt for any appearance of levity on high +occasions. But Charley’s face was of that agreeable stamp that, though +gentle and bland when lighted up with a smile, is particularly +masculine and manly in expression when in repose, and the frown that +knit his brows when he observed the bad impression he had given almost +reinstated him in their esteem. But his popularity became great, and +the admiration of his swarthy friends greater, when he rose and made an +eloquent speech in English, which Jacques translated into the Indian +language. + +He told them, in reply to the chief’s oration (wherein that warrior had +complimented his pale-faced brothers on their numerous good qualities), +that he was delighted and proud to meet with his Indian friends; that +the object of his mission was to acquaint them with the fact that a new +trading-fort was established not far off, by himself and his comrades, +for their special benefit and behoof; that the stores were full of +goods which he hoped they would soon obtain possession of, in exchange +for furs; that he had travelled a great distance on purpose to see +their land and ascertain its capabilities in the way of fur-bearing +animals and game; that he had not been disappointed in his +expectations, as he had found the animals to be as numerous as bees, +the fish plentiful in the rivers and lakes, and the country at large a +perfect paradise. He proceeded to tell them further that he expected +they would justify the report he had heard of them, that they were a +brave nation and good hunters, by bringing in large quantities of furs. + +Being strongly urged by Jacques to compliment them, on their various +good qualities, Charley launched out into an extravagantly poetic vein, +said that he had heard (but he hoped to have many opportunities of +seeing it proved) that there was no nation under the sun equal to them +in bravery, activity, and perseverance; that he had heard of men in +olden times who made it their profession to fight with wild bulls for +the amusement of their friends, but he had no doubt whatever their +courage would be made conspicuous in the way of fighting wild bears and +buffaloes, not for the amusement but the benefit of their wives and +children (he might have added of the Hudson’s Bay Company, but he +didn’t, supposing that that was self-evident, probably). He +complimented them on the way in which they had conducted themselves in +war in times past, comparing their stealthy approach to enemies’ camps +to the insidious snake that glides among the bushes, and darts +unexpectedly on its prey; said that their eyes were sharp to follow the +war-trail through the forest or over the dry sward of the prairie; +their aim with gun or bow true and sure as the flight of the goose when +it leaves the lands of the sun, and points its beak to the icy regions +of the north; their war-whoops loud as the thunders of the cataract; +and their sudden onset like the lightning flash that darts from the sky +and scatters the stout oak in splinters on the plain. + +At this point Jacques expressed his satisfaction at the style in which +his young friend was progressing. + +“That’s your sort, Mr. Charles. Don’t spare the butter; lay it on +thick. You’ve not said too much yet, for they are a brave race, that’s +a fact, as I’ve good reason to know.” + +Jacques, however, did not feel quite so well satisfied when Charley +went on to tell them that although bravery in war was an admirable +thing, war itself was a thing not at all to be desired, and should only +be undertaken in case of necessity. He especially pointed out that +there was not much glory to be earned in fighting against the +Chipewyans, who, everybody knew, were a poor, timid set of people, whom +they ought rather to pity than to destroy; and recommended them to +devote themselves more to the chase than they had done in times past, +and less to the prosecution of war in time to come. + +All this, and a great deal more, did Charley say, in a manner, and with +a rapidity of utterance, that surprised himself, when he considered the +fact that he had never adventured into the field of public speaking +before. All this, and a great deal more—a very great deal more—did +Jacques Caradoc interpret to the admiring Indians, who listened with +the utmost gravity and profound attention, greeting the close with a +very emphatic “Ho!” + +Jacques’s translation was by no means perfect. Many of the flights into +which Charley ventured, especially in regard to the manners and customs +of the savages of ancient Greece and Rome, were quite incomprehensible +to the worthy backwoodsman; but he invariably proceeded when Charley +halted, giving a flight of his own when at a loss, varying and +modifying when he thought it advisable, and altering, adding, or +cutting off as he pleased. + +Several other chiefs addressed the assembly, and then dinner, if we may +so call it, was served. In Charley’s case it was breakfast; to the +Indians it was breakfast, dinner, and supper in one. It consisted of a +large platter of dried meat, reindeer tongues (considered a great +delicacy), and marrow-bones. + +Notwithstanding the graphic power with which Jacques had prepared his +young companion for this meal, Charley’s heart sank when he beheld the +mountain of boiled meat that was placed before him. He was ravenously +hungry, it is true, but it was patent to his perception at a glance +that no powers of gormandizing of which he was capable could enable him +to consume the mass in the course of one day. + +Jacques observed his consternation, and was not a little entertained by +it, although his face wore an expression of profound gravity while he +proceeded to attack his own dish, which was equal to that of his +friend. + +Before commencing, a small portion of meat was thrown into the fire as +a sacrifice to the Great Master of Life. + +“How they do eat, to be sure!” whispered Charley to Jacques, after he +had glanced in wonder at the circle of men who were devouring their +food with the most extraordinary rapidity. + +“Why, you must know,” replied Jacques, “that it’s considered a point of +honour to get it over soon, and the man that is done first gets most +credit. But it’s hard work” (he sighed, and paused a little to +breathe), “and I’ve not got half through yet.” + +“It’s quite plain that I must lose credit with them, then, if it +depends on my eating that. Tell me, Jacques, is there no way of escape? +Must I sit here till it is all consumed?” + +“No doubt of it. Every bit that has been cooked must be crammed down +our throats somehow or other.” Charley heaved a deep sigh, and made +another desperate attack on a large steak, while the Indians around him +made considerable progress in reducing their respective mountains. + +Several times Charley and Redfeather exchanged glances as they paused +in their labours. + +“I say, Jacques,” said Charley, pulling up once more, “how do you get +on? Pretty well stuffed by this time, I should imagine?” + +“Oh no! I’ve a good deal o’ room yet.” + +“I give in. Credit or disgrace, it’s all one. I’ll not make a pig of +myself for any red-skin in the land.” + +Jacques smiled. + +“See,” continued Charley, “there’s a fellow opposite who has devoured +as much as would have served me for three days. I don’t know whether +it’s imagination or not, but I do verily believe that he’s _blacker_ in +the face than when we sat down!” + +“Very likely,” replied Jacques, wiping his lips, “Now I’ve done.” + +“Done! you have left at least a third of your supply.” + +“True, and I may as well tell you for your comfort that there is one +way of escape open to you. It is a custom among these fellows, that +when any one cannot gulp his share o’ the prog, he may get help from +any of his friends that can cram it down their throats; and as there +are always such fellows among these Injins, they seldom have any +difficulty.” + +“A most convenient practice,” replied Charley, “I’ll adopt it at once.” + +Charley turned to his next neighbour with the intent to beg of him to +eat his remnant of the feast. + +“Bless my heart, Jacques, I’ve no chance with the fellow on my left +hand; he’s stuffed quite full already, and is not quite done with his +own share.” + +“Never fear,” replied his friend, looking at the individual in +question, who was languidly lifting a marrowbone to his lips; “he’ll do +it easy. I knows the gauge o’ them chaps, and for all his sleepy looks +just now he’s game for a lot more.” + +“Impossible,” replied Charley, looking in despair at his unfinished +viands and then at the Indian. A glance round the circle seemed further +to convince him that if he did not eat it himself there were none of +the party likely to do so. + +“You’ll have to give him a good lump o’ tobacco to do it, though; he +won’t undertake so much for a trifle, I can tell you.” Jacques chuckled +as he said this, and handed his own portion over to another Indian, who +readily undertook to finish it for him. + +“He’ll burst; I feel certain of that,” said Charley, with a deep sigh, +as he surveyed his friend on the left. + +At last he took courage to propose the thing to him, and just as the +man finished the last morsel of his own repast, Charley placed his own +plate before him, with a look that seemed to say, “Eat it, my friend, +_if you can._” + +The Indian, much to his surprise, immediately commenced to it, and in +less than half-an-hour the whole was disposed of. + +During this scene of gluttony, one of the chiefs entertained the +assembly with a wild and most unmusical chant, to which he beat time on +a sort of tambourine, while the women outside the enclosure beat a +similar accompaniment. + +“I say, master,” whispered Jacques, “it seems to my observation that +the fellow you call Redfeather eats less than any Injin I ever saw. He +has got a comrade to eat more than half his share; now that’s strange.” + +“It won’t appear strange, Jacques, when I tell you that Redfeather has +lived much more among white men than Indians during the last ten years; +and although voyageurs eat an enormous quantity of food, they don’t +make it a point of honour, as these fellows seem to do, to eat much +more than enough. Besides, Redfeather is a very different man from +those around him; he has been partially educated by the missionaries on +Playgreen Lake, and I think has a strong leaning towards them.” + +While they were thus conversing in whispers, Redfeather rose, and +holding forth his hand, delivered himself of the following oration:— + +“The time has come for Redfeather to speak. He has kept silence for +many moons now, but his heart has been full of words. It is too full; +he must speak now. Redfeather has fought with his tribe, and has been +accounted a brave, and one who loves his people. This is true. He +_does_ love, even more than they can understand. His friends know that +he has never feared to face danger and death in their defence, and +that, if it were necessary, he would do so still. But Redfeather is +going to leave his people now. His heart is heavy at the thought. +Perhaps many moons will come and go, many snows may fall and melt away, +before he sees his people again; and it is this that makes him full of +sorrow, it is this that makes his head to droop like the branches of +the weeping willow.” + +Redfeather paused at this point, but not a sound escaped from the +listening circle: the Indians were evidently taken by surprise at this +abrupt announcement. He proceeded:— + +“When Redfeather travelled not long since with the white men, he met +with a pale-face who came from the other side of the Great Salt Lake +towards the rising sun. This man was called by some of the people a +missionary. He spoke wonderful things in the ear of Redfeather. He told +him of things about the Great Spirit which he did not know before, and +he asked Redfeather to go and help him to speak to the Indians about +these strange things. Redfeather would not go. He loved his people too +much, and he thought that the words of the missionary seemed +foolishness. But he has thought much about it since. He does not +understand the strange things that were told to him, and he has tried +to forget them, but he cannot. He can get no rest. He hears strange +sounds in the breeze that shakes the pine. He thinks that there are +voices in the waterfall; the rivers seem to speak, Redfeather’s spirit +is vexed. The Great Spirit, perhaps, is talking to him. He has resolved +to go to the dwelling of the missionary and stay with him.” + +The Indian paused again, but still no sound escaped from his comrades. +Dropping his voice to a soft plaintive tone, he continued— + +“But Redfeather loves his kindred. He desires very much that they +should hear the things that the missionary said. He spoke of the happy +hunting grounds to which the spirits of our fathers have gone, and said +that we required a _guide_ to lead us there; that there was but one +guide, whose name, he said, was Jesus. Redfeather would stay and hunt +with his people, but his spirit is troubled; he cannot rest; he must +go!” + +Redfeather sat down, and a long silence ensued. His words had evidently +taken the whole party by surprise, although not a countenance there +showed the smallest symptom of astonishment, except that of Charley +Kennedy, whose intercourse with Indians had not yet been so great as to +have taught him to conceal his feelings. + +At length the old chief rose, and after complimenting Redfeather on his +bravery in general, and admitting that he had shown much love to his +people on all occasions, went into the subject of his quitting them at +some length. He reminded him that there were evil spirits as well as +good; that it was not for him to say which kind had been troubling him, +but that he ought to consider well before he went to live altogether +with pale-faces. Several other speeches were made, some to the same +effect, and others applauding his resolve. These latter had, perhaps, +some idea that his bringing the pale-faced missionary among them would +gratify their taste for the marvellous—a taste that is pretty strong in +all uneducated minds. + +One man, however, was particularly urgent in endeavouring to dissuade +him from his purpose. He was a tall, low-browed man; muscular and well +built, but possessed of a most villainous expression of countenance. +From a remark that fell from one of the company, Charley discovered +that his name was Misconna, and so learned, to his surprise, that he +was the very Indian mentioned by Redfeather as the man who had been his +rival for the hand of Wabisca, and who had so cruelly killed the wife +of the poor trapper the night on which the Chipewyan camp was attacked, +and the people slaughtered. + +What reason Misconna had for objecting so strongly to Redfeather’s +leaving the community no one could tell, although some of those who +knew his unforgiving nature suspected that he still entertained the +hope of being able, some day or other, to weak his vengeance on his old +rival. But whatever was his object, he failed in moving Redfeather’s +resolution; and it was at last admitted by the whole party that +Redfeather was a “wise chief;” that he knew best what ought to be done +under the circumstances, and it was hoped that his promised visit, in +company with the missionary, would not be delayed many moons. + +That night, in the deep shadow of the trees, by the brook that murmured +near the Indian camp, while the stars twinkled through the branches +overhead, Charley introduced Redfeather to his friend Jacques Caradoc, +and a friendship was struck up between the bold hunter and the red man +that grew and strengthened as each successive day made them acquainted +with their respective good qualities. In the same place, and with the +same stars looking down upon them, it was further agreed that +Redfeather should accompany his new friends, taking his wife along with +him in another canoe, as far as their several routes led them in the +same direction, which was about four or five days’ journey; and that +while the one party diverged towards the fort at Stoney Creek, the +other should pursue its course to the missionary station on the shores +of Lake Winnipeg. + +But there was a snake in the grass there that they little suspected. +Misconna had crept through the bushes after them, with a degree of +caution that might have baffled their vigilance, even had they +suspected treason in a friendly camp. He lay listening intently to all +their plans, and when they returned to their camp, he rose out from +among the bushes, like a dark spirit of evil, clutched the handle of +his scalping-knife, and gave utterance to a malicious growl; then, +walking hastily after them, his dusky figure was soon concealed among +the trees. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +The return—Narrow escape—A murderous attempt, which fails—And a +discovery. + + +All nature was joyous and brilliant, and bright and beautiful. Morning +was still very young—about an hour old. Sounds of the most cheerful, +light-hearted character floated over the waters and echoed through the +woods, as birds and beasts hurried to and fro with all the bustling +energy that betokened preparation and search for breakfast. Fish leaped +in the pools with a rapidity that brought forcibly to mind that wise +saying, “The more hurry, the less speed;” for they appeared constantly +to miss their mark, although they jumped twice their own length out of +the water in the effort. + +Ducks and geese sprang from their liquid beds with an amazing amount of +unnecessary sputter, as if they had awakened to the sudden +consciousness of being late for breakfast, then alighted in the water +again with a _squash,_ on finding (probably) that it was too early for +that meal, but, observing other flocks passing and re-passing on noisy +wing, took to flight again, unable, apparently, to restrain their +feelings of delight at the freshness of the morning air, the brightness +of the rising sun, and the sweet perfume of the dewy verdure, as the +mists cleared away over the tree-tops and lost themselves in the blue +sky. Everything seemed instinct not only with life, but with a large +amount of superabundant energy. Earth, air, sky, animal, vegetable, and +mineral, solid and liquid, all were either actually in a state of +lively exulting motion, or had a peculiarly sprightly look about them, +as if nature had just burst out of prison _en masse_, and gone raving +mad with joy. + +Such was the delectable state of things the morning on which two canoes +darted from the camp of the Knisteneux, amid many expressions of +goodwill. One canoe contained our two friends, Charley and Jacques; the +other, Redfeather and his wife Wabisca. + +A few strokes of the paddle shot them out into the stream, which +carried them rapidly away from the scene of their late festivities. In +five minutes they swept round a point which shut them out from view, +and they were swiftly descending those rapid rivers that had cost +Charley and Jacques so much labour to ascend. + +“Look out for rocks ahead, Mr. Charles,” cried Jacques, as he steered +the light bark into the middle of a rapid, which they had avoided when +ascending by making a portage. “Keep well to the left of yon swirl. +_Parbleu_, if we touch the rock _there_ it’ll be all over with us.” + +“All right,” was Charley’s laconic reply. And so it proved, for their +canoe, after getting fairly into the run of the rapid, was evidently +under the complete command of its expert crew, and darted forward amid +the foaming waters like a thing instinct with life. Now it careered and +plunged over the waves where the rough bed of the stream made them more +than usually turbulent. Anon it flew with increased rapidity through a +narrow gap where the compressed water was smooth and black, but deep +and powerful, rendering great care necessary to prevent the canoe’s +frail sides from being dashed on the rocks. Then it met a curling wave, +into which it plunged like an impetuous charger, and was checked for a +moment by its own violence. Presently an eddy threw the canoe a little +out of its course, disconcerting Charley’s intention of _shaving_ a +rock, which lay in their track, so that he slightly grazed it in +passing. + +“Ah, Mr. Charles,” said Jacques, shaking his head, “that was not well +done; an inch more would have sent us down the rapids like drowned +cats.” + +“True,” replied Charley, somewhat crestfallen; “but you see the other +inch was not lost, so we’re not much the worse for it.” + +“Well, after all, it was a ticklish bit, and I should have guessed that +your experience was not up to it quite. I’ve seen many a man in my day +who wouldn’t ha’ done it _half_ so slick, an’ yet ha’ thought no small +beer of himself; so you needn’t be ashamed, Mr. Charles. But Wabisca +beats you for all that,” continued the hunter, glancing hastily over +his shoulder at Redfeather, who followed closely in their wake, he and +his modest-looking wife guiding their little craft through the +dangerous passages with the utmost _sangfroid_ and precision. + +“We’ve about run them all now,” said Jacques, as they paddled over a +sheet of still water which intervened between the rapid they had just +descended and another which thundered about a hundred yards in advance. + +“I was so engrossed with the one we have just come down,” said Charley, +“that I quite forgot this one.” + +“Quite right, Mr. Charles,” said Jacques, in an approving tone, “quite +right. I holds that a man should always attend to what he’s at, an’ to +nothin’ else. I’ve lived long in the woods now, and the fact becomes +more and more sartin every day. I’ve know’d chaps, now, as timersome as +settlement girls, that were always in such a mortal funk about what +_was_ to happen, or _might_ happen, that they were never fit for +anything that _did_ happen; always lookin’ ahead, and never around +them. Of coorse, I don’t mean that a man shouldn’t look ahead at all, +but their great mistake was that they looked out too far ahead, and +always kep’ their eyes nailed there, just as if they had the fixin’ o’ +everything, an’ Providence had nothin’ to do with it at all. I mind a +Canadian o’ that sort that travelled in company with me once. We were +goin’ just as we are now, Mr. Charles, two canoes of us; him and a +comrade in one, and me and a comrade in t’other. One night we got to a +lot o’ rapids that came one after another for the matter o’ three miles +or thereabouts. They were all easy ones, however, except the last; but +it _was_ a tickler, with a sharp turn o’ the land that hid it from +sight until ye were right into it, with a foamin’ current, and a range +o’ ragged rocks that stood straight in front o’ ye, like the teeth of a +cross-cut saw. It was easy enough, however, if a man _knew_ it, and was +a cool hand. Well, the _pauvre_ Canadian was in a terrible takin’ about +this shoot long afore he came to it. He had run it often enough in +boats where he was one of a half-dozen men, and had nothin’ to do but +look on; but he had never _steered_ down it before. When he came to the +top o’ the rapids, his mind was so filled with this shoot that he +couldn’t attend to nothin’, and scraped agin’ a dozen rocks in almost +smooth water, so that when he got a little more than half-way down, the +canoe was as rickety as if it had just come off a six months’ cruise. +At last we came to the big rapid, and after we’d run down our canoe I +climbed the bank to see them do it. Down they came, the poor Canadian +white as a sheet, and his comrade, who was brave enough, but knew +nothin’ about light craft, not very comfortable. At first he could see +nothin’ for the point, but in another moment round they went, end on, +for the big rocks. The Canadian gave a great yell when he saw them, and +plunged at the paddle till I thought he’d have capsized altogether. +They ran it well enough, straight between the rocks (more by good luck +than good guidance), and sloped down to the smooth water below; but the +canoe had got such a battering in the rapids above, where an Injin baby +could have steered it in safety, that the last plunge shook it all to +pieces. It opened up, and lay down flat on the water, while the two men +fell right through the bottom, screechin’ like mad, and rolling about +among shreds o’ birch bark!” + +While Jacques was thus descanting philosophically on his experience in +time past, they had approached the head of the second rapid, and in +accordance with the principles just enunciated, the stout backwoodsman +gave his undivided attention to the work before him. The rapid was +short and deep, so that little care was required in descending it, +excepting at one point, where the stream rushed impetuously between two +rocks about six yards asunder. Here it was requisite to keep the canoe +as much in the middle of the stream as possible. + +Just as they began to feel the drag of the water, Redfeather was heard +to shout in a loud warning tone, which caused Jacques and Charley to +back their paddles hurriedly. + +“What can the Injin mean, I wonder?” said Jacques, in a perplexed tone. +“He don’t look like a man that would stop us at the top of a strong +rapid for nothin’.” + +“It’s too late to do that now, whatever is his reason,” said Charley, +as he and his companion struggled in vain to paddle up stream. + +“It’s no use, Mr. Charles; we must run it now—the current’s too strong +to make head against; besides, I do think the man has only seen a bear, +or something o’ that sort, for I see he’s ashore, and jumpin’ among the +bushes like a cariboo.” + +Saying this, they turned the canoe’s head down stream again, and +allowed it to drift, merely retarding its progress a little with the +paddles. + +Suddenly Jacques uttered a sharp exclamation. “_Mon Dieu!_” said he, +“it’s plain enough now. Look there!” + +Jacques pointed as he spoke to the narrows to which they were now +approaching with tremendous speed, which increased every instant. A +heavy tree lay directly across the stream, reaching from rock to rock, +and placed in such a way that it was impossible for a canoe to descend +without being dashed in pieces against it. This was the more curious +that no trees grew in the immediate vicinity, so that this one must +have been designedly conveyed there. + +“There has been foul work here,” said Jacques, in a deep tone. “We must +dive, Mr. Charles; there’s no chance any way else, and _that’s_ but a +poor one.” + +This was true. The rocks on each side rose almost perpendicularly out +of the water, so that it was utterly impossible to run ashore, and the +only way of escape, as Jacques said, was by diving under the tree, a +thing involving great risk, as the stream immediately below was broken +by rocks, against which it dashed in foam, and through which the +chances of steering one’s way in safety by means of swimming were very +slender indeed. + +Charley made no reply, but with tightly-compressed lips, and a look of +stern resolution on his brow, threw off his coat, and hastily tied his +belt tightly round his waist. The canoe was now sweeping forward with +lightning speed; in a few minutes it would be dashed to pieces. + +At that moment a shout was heard in the woods, and Redfeather darting +out, rushed over the ledge of rock on which one end of the tree rested, +seized the trunk in his arms, and exerting all his strength, hurled it +over into the river. In doing so he stumbled, and ere he could recover +himself a branch caught him under the arm as the tree fell over, and +dragged him into the boiling stream. This accident was probably the +means of saving his life, for just as he fell the loud report of a gun +rang through the woods, and a bullet passed through his cap. For a +second or two both man and tree were lost in the foam, while the canoe +dashed past in safety. The next instant Wabisca passed the narrows in +her small craft, and steered for the tree. Redfeather, who had risen +and sunk several times, saw her as she passed, and making a violent +effort, he caught hold of the gunwale, and was carried down in safety. + +“I’ll tell you what it is,” said Jacques, as the party stood on a rock +promontory after the events just narrated: “I would give a dollar to +have that fellow’s nose and the sights o’ my rifle in a line at any +distance short of two hundred yards.” + +“It was Misconna,” said Redfeather. “I did not see him, but there’s not +another man in the tribe that could do that.” + +“I’m thankful we escaped, Jacques. I never felt so near death before, +and had it not been for the timely aid of our friend here, it strikes +me that our wild life would have come to an abrupt close.—God bless +you, Redfeather,” said Charley, taking the Indian’s hand in both of his +and kissing it. + +Charley’s ebullition of feeling was natural. He had not yet become used +to the dangers of the wilderness so as to treat them with indifference. +Jacques, on the other hand, had risked his life so often that escape +from danger was treated very much as a matter of course, and called +forth little expression of feeling. Still, it must not be inferred from +this that his nature had become callous. The backwoodsman’s frame was +hard and unyielding as iron, but his heart was as soft still as it was +on the day on which he first donned the hunting-shirt, and there was +much more of tenderness than met the eye in the squeeze that he gave +Redfeather’s hand on landing. + +As the four travellers encircled the fire that night, under the leafy +branches of the forest, and smoked their pipes in concert, while +Wabisca busied herself in clearing away the remnants of their evening +meal, they waxed communicative, and stories, pathetic, comic, and +tragic, followed each other in rapid succession. + +“Now, Redfeather,” said Charley, while Jacques rose and went down to +the luggage to get more tobacco, “tell Jacques about the way in which +you got your name. I am sure he will feel deeply interested in that +story—at least I am certain that Harry Somerville and I did when you +told it to us the day we were wind-bound on Lake Winnipeg.” + +Redfeather made no reply for a few seconds. “Will Mr. Charles speak for +me?” he said at length. “His tongue is smooth and quick.” + +“A doubtful kind of compliment,” said Charley, laughing; “but I will, +if you don’t wish to tell it yourself.” + +“And don’t mention names. Do not let him know that you speak of me or +my friends,” said the Indian, in a low whisper, as Jacques returned and +sat down by the fire again. + +Charley gave him a glance of surprise; but being prevented from asking +questions, he nodded in reply, and proceeded to relate to his friend +the story that has been recounted in a previous chapter. Redfeather +leaned back against a tree, and appeared to listen intently. + +Charley’s powers of description were by no means inconsiderable, and +the backwoodsman’s face assumed a look of good-humoured attention as +the story proceeded. But when the narrator went on to tell of the +meditated attack and the midnight march, his interest was aroused, the +pipe which he had been smoking was allowed to go out, and he gazed at +his young friend with the most earnest attention. It was evident that +the hunter’s spirit entered with deep sympathy into such scenes; and +when Charley described the attack, and the death of the trapper’s wife, +Jacques seemed unable to restrain his feelings. He leaned his elbows on +his knees, buried his face in his hands, and groaned aloud. + +“Mr. Charles,” he said, in a deep voice, when the story was ended, +“there are two men I would like to meet with in this world before I +die. One is the young Injin who tried to save that girl’s life, the +other is the cowardly villain that took it. I don’t mean the one who +finished the bloody work: my rifle sent his accursed spirit to its own +place—” + +“_Your_ rifle!” cried Charley, in amazement. + +“Ay, mine! It was _my_ wife who was butchered by these savage dogs on +that dark night. Oh, what avails the strength o’ that right arm!” said +Jacques, bitterly, as he lifted up his clenched fist; “it was powerless +to save _her_—the sweet girl who left her home and people to follow me, +a rough hunter, through the lonesome wilderness!” + +He covered his face again, and groaned in agony of spirit, while his +whole frame quivered with emotion. + +Jacques remained silent, and his sympathising friends refrained from +intruding on a sorrow which they felt they had no power to relieve. + +At length he spoke. “Yes,” said he, “I would give much to meet with the +man who tried to save her. I saw him do it twice; but the devils about +him were too eager to be balked of their prey.” + +Charley and the Indian exchanged glances. “That Indian’s name,” said +the former, “was _Redfeather!_” + +“What!” exclaimed the trapper, jumping to his feet, and grasping +Redfeather, who had also risen, by the two shoulders, stared wildly in +his face; “was it _you_ that did it?” + +Redfeather smiled, and held out his hand, which the other took and +wrung with an energy that would have extorted a cry of pain from any +one but an Indian. Then, dropping it suddenly and clinching his hands, +he exclaimed,— + +“I said that I would like to meet the villain who killed her—yes, I +said it in passion, when your words had roused all my old feelings +again; but I am thankful—I bless God that I did not know this +sooner—that you did not tell me of it when I was at the camp, for I +verily believe that I would not only have fixed _him_, but half the +warriors o’ your tribe too, before they had settled _me!_” + +It need scarcely be added that the friendship which already subsisted +between Jacques and Redfeather was now doubly cemented; nor will it +create surprise when we say that the former, in the fulness of his +heart, and from sheer inability to find adequate outlets for the +expression of his feelings, offered Redfeather in succession all the +articles of value he possessed, even to the much-loved rifle, and was +seriously annoyed at their not being accepted. At last he finished off +by assuring the Indian that he might look out for him soon at the +missionary settlement, where he meant to stay with him evermore in the +capacity of hunter, fisherman, and jack-of-all-trades to the whole +clan. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +The scene changes—Bachelor’s Hall—A practical joke and its +consequences—A snow-shoe walk at night in the forest. + + +Leaving Charley to pursue his adventurous career among the Indians, we +will introduce our reader to a new scene, and follow for a time the +fortunes of our friend Harry Somerville. It will be remembered that we +left him labouring under severe disappointment at the idea of having to +spend a year, it might be many years, at the depot, and being condemned +to the desk, instead of realising his fond dreams of bear-hunting and +deer-stalking in the woods and prairies. + +It was now the autumn of Harry’s second year at York Fort. This period +of the year happens to be the busiest at the depot, in consequence of +the preparation of the annual accounts for transmission to England, in +the solitary ship which visits this lonely spot once a year; so that +Harry was tied to his desk all day and the greater part of the night +too, so that his spirits fell infinitely below zero, and he began to +look on himself as the most miserable of mortals. His spirits rose, +however, with amazing rapidity after the ship went away, and the “young +gentlemen,” as the clerks were styled _en masse_, were permitted to run +wild in the swamps and woods for the three weeks succeeding that event. +During this glimpse of sunshine they recruited their exhausted frames +by paddling about all day in Indian canoes, or wandering through the +marshes, sleeping at nights in tents or under the pine trees, and +spreading dismay among the feathered tribes, of which there were +immense numbers of all kinds. After this they returned to their regular +work at the desk; but as this was not so severe as in summer, and was +further lightened by Wednesdays and Saturdays being devoted entirely to +recreation, Harry began to look on things in a less gloomy aspect, and +at length regained his wonted cheerful spirits. + +Autumn passed away. The ducks and geese took their departure to more +genial climes. The swamps froze up and became solid. Snow fell in great +abundance, covering every vestige of vegetable nature, except the dark +fir trees, that only helped to render the scenery more dreary, and +winter settled down upon the land. Within the pickets of York Fort, the +thirty or forty souls who lived there were actively employed in cutting +their firewood, putting in double window-frames to keep out the severe +cold, cutting tracks in the snow from one house to another, and +otherwise preparing for a winter of eight months’ duration, as cold as +that of Nova Zembla, and in the course of which the only new faces they +had any chance of seeing were those of the two men who conveyed the +annual winter packet of letters from the next station. Outside of the +fort, all was a wide, waste wilderness for _thousands_ of miles around. +Deathlike stillness and solitude reigned everywhere, except when a +covey of ptarmigan whirred like large snowflakes athwart the sky, or an +arctic fox prowled stealthily through the woods in search of prey. + +As if in opposition to the gloom and stillness and solitude outside, +the interior of the clerks’ house presented a striking contrast of +ruddy warmth, cheerful sounds, and bustling activity. + +It was evening; but although the sun had set, there was still +sufficient daylight to render candles unnecessary, though not enough to +prevent a bright glare from the stove in the centre of the hall taking +full effect in the darkening chamber, and making it glow with fiery +red. Harry Somerville sat in front, and full in the blaze of this +stove, resting after the labours of the day; his arms crossed on his +breast, his head a little to one side, as if in deep contemplation, as +he gazed earnestly into the fire, and his chair tilted on its hind legs +so as to balance with such nicety that a feather’s weight additional +outside its centre of gravity would have upset it. He had divested +himself of his coat—a practice that prevailed among the young gentlemen +when _at home_, as being free-and-easy as well as convenient. The +doctor, a tall, broad-shouldered man, with red hair and whiskers, paced +the room sedately, with a long pipe depending from his lips, which he +removed occasionally to address a few remarks to the accountant, a +stout, heavy man of about thirty, with a voice like a Stentor, eyes +sharp and active as those of a ferret, and a tongue that moved with +twice the ordinary amount of lingual rapidity. The doctor’s remarks +seemed to be particularly humorous, if one might judge from the peals +of laughter with which they were received by the accountant, who stood +with his back to the stove in such a position that, while it warmed him +from his heels to his waist, he enjoyed the additional benefit of the +pipe or chimney, which rose upwards, parallel with his spine, and, +taking a sudden bend near the roof, passed over his head—thus producing +a genial and equable warmth from top to toe. + +“Yes,” said the doctor, “I left him hotly following up a rabbit-track, +in the firm belief that it was that of a silver fox.” + +“And did you not undeceive the greenhorn?” cried the accountant, with +another shout of laughter. + +“Not I,” replied the doctor. “I merely recommended him to keep his eye +on the sun, lest he should lose his way, and hastened home; for it just +occurred to me that I had forgotten to visit Louis Blanc, who cut his +foot with an axe yesterday, and whose wound required redressing, so I +left the poor youth to learn from experience.” + +“Pray, who did you leave to that delightful fate?” asked Mr. Wilson, +issuing from his bedroom, and approaching the stove. + +Mr. Wilson was a middle-aged, good-humoured, active man, who filled the +onerous offices of superintendent of the men, trader of furs, seller of +goods to the Indians, and general factotum. + +“Our friend Hamilton,” answered the doctor, in reply to his question. +“I think he is, without exception, the most egregious nincompoop I ever +saw. Just as I passed the long swamp on my way home, I met him crashing +through the bushes in hot pursuit of a rabbit, the track of which he +mistook for a fox. Poor fellow! He had been out since breakfast, and +only shot a brace of ptarmigan, although they are as thick as bees and +quite tame. ‘But then, do you see,’ said he, in excuse, ‘I’m so very +shortsighted! Would you believe it, I’ve blown fifteen lumps of snow to +atoms, in the belief that they were ptarmigan!’ and then he rushed off +again.” + +“No doubt,” said Mr. Wilson, smiling, “the lad is very green, but he’s +a good fellow for all that.” + +“I’ll answer for that,” said the accountant; “I found him over at the +men’s houses this morning doing _your_ work for you, doctor.” + +“How so?” inquired the disciple of Æsculapius. + +“Attending to your wounded man, Louis Blanc, to be sure; and he seemed +to speak to him as wisely as if he had walked the hospitals, and +regularly passed for an M.D.” + +“Indeed!” said the doctor, with a mischievous grin. “Then I must pay +him off for interfering with my patients.” + +“Ah, doctor, you’re too fond of practical jokes. You never let slip an +opportunity of ‘paying off’ your friends for something or other. It’s a +bad habit. Practical jokes are very bad things—shockingly bad,” said +Mr. Wilson, as he put on his fur cap, and wound a thick shawl round his +throat, preparatory to leaving the room. + +As Mr. Wilson gave utterance to this opinion, he passed Harry +Somerville, who was still staring at the fire in deep mental +abstraction, and, as he did so, gave his tilted chair a very slight +push backwards with his finger—an action which caused Harry to toss up +his legs, grasp convulsively with both hands at empty air, and fall +with a loud noise and an angry yell to the ground, while his persecutor +vanished from the scene. + +“O you outrageous villain!” cried Harry, shaking his fist at the door, +as he slowly gathered himself up; “I might have expected that.” + +“Quite so,” said the doctor; “you might. It was very neatly done, +undoubtedly. Wilson deserves credit for the way in which it was +executed.” + +“He deserves to be executed for doing it at all,” replied Harry, +rubbing his elbow as he resumed his seat. + +“Any bark knocked off?” inquired the accountant, as he took a piece of +glowing charcoal from the stove wherewith to light his pipe. “Try a +whiff, Harry. It’s good for such things. Bruises, sores, contusions, +sprains, rheumatic affections of the back and loins, carbuncles and +earache—there’s nothing that smoking won’t cure; eh, doctor?” + +“Certainly. If applied inwardly, there’s nothing so good for digestion +when one doesn’t require tonics—Try it, Harry; it will do you good, I +assure you.” + +“No, thank you,” replied Harry; “I’ll leave that to you and the +chimney. I don’t wish to make a soot-bag of my mouth. But tell me, +doctor, what do you mean to do with that lump of snow there?” + +Harry pointed to a mass of snow, of about two feet square, which lay on +the floor beside the door. It had been placed there by the doctor some +time previously. + +“Do with it? Have patience, my friend, and you shall see. It is a +little surprise I have in store for Hamilton.” + +As he spoke, the door opened, and a short, square-built man rushed into +the room, with a pistol in one hand and a bright little bullet in the +other. + +“Hollo, skipper!” cried Harry, “what’s the row?” + +“All right,” cried the skipper; “here it is at last, solid as the fluke +of an anchor. Toss me the powder-flask Harry; look sharp, else it’ll +melt.” + +A powder-flask was immediately produced, from which the skipper hastily +charged the pistol, and rammed down the shining bullet. + +“Now then,” said he, “look out for squalls. Clear the decks there.” + +And rushing to the door, he flung it open, took a steady aim at +something outside, and fired. + +“Is the man mad?” said the accountant, as with a look of amazement he +beheld the skipper spring through the doorway, and immediately return +bearing in his arms a large piece of fir plank. + +“Not quite mad yet,” he said, in reply, “but I’ve sent a ball of +quicksilver through an inch plank, and that’s not a thing to be done +every day—even _here_, although it _is_ cold enough sometimes to freeze +up one’s very ideas.” + +“Dear me,” interrupted Harry Somerville, looking as if a new thought +had struck him, “that must be it! I’ve no doubt that poor Hamilton’s +ideas are _frozen_, which accounts for the total absence of any +indication of his possessing such things.” + +“I observed,” continued the skipper, not noticing the interruption, +“that the glass was down at 45 degrees below zero this morning, and put +out a bullet-mould full of mercury, and you see the result.” As he +spoke he held up the perforated plank in triumph. + +The skipper was a strange mixture of qualities. To a wild, off-hand, +sailor-like hilarity of disposition in hours of leisure, he united a +grave, stern energy of character while employed in the performance of +his duties. Duty was always paramount with him. A smile could scarcely +be extracted from him while it was in the course of performance. But +the instant his work was done a new spirit seemed to take possession of +the man. Fun, mischief of any kind, no matter how childish, he entered +into with the greatest delight and enthusiasm. Among other +peculiarities, he had become deeply imbued with a thirst for scientific +knowledge, ever since he had acquired, with infinite labour, the small +modicum of science necessary to navigation; and his doings in pursuit +of statistical information relative to the weather, and the phenomena +of nature generally, were very peculiar, and in some cases outrageous. +His transaction with the quicksilver was in consequence of an eager +desire to see that metal frozen (an effect which takes place when the +spirit-of-wine thermometer falls to 39 degrees below zero of +Fahrenheit), and a wish to be able to boast of having actually fired a +mercurial bullet through an inch plank. Having made a careful note of +the fact, with all the relative circumstances attending it, in a very +much blotted book, which he denominated his scientific log, the worthy +skipper threw off his coat, drew a chair to the stove, and prepared to +regale himself with a pipe. As he glanced slowly round the room while +thus engaged, his eye fell on the mass of snow before alluded to. On +being informed by the doctor for what it was intended, he laid down his +pipe and rose hastily from his chair. + +“You’ve not a moment to lose,” said he. “As I came in at the gate just +now, I saw Hamilton coming down the river on the ice, and he must be +almost arrived now.” + +“Up with it then,” cried the doctor, seizing the snow, and lifting it +to the top of the door. “Hand me those bits of stick, Harry; quick, +man, stir your stumps.—Now then, skipper, fix them in so, while I hold +this up.” + +The skipper lent willing and effective aid, so that in a few minutes +the snow was placed in such a position that upon the opening of the +door it must inevitably fall on the head of the first person who should +enter the room. + +“So,” said the skipper, “that’s rigged up in what I call ship-shape +fashion.” + +“True,” remarked the doctor, eyeing the arrangement with a look of +approval; “it will do, I think, admirably.” + +“Don’t you think, skipper,” said Harry Somerville gravely, as he +resumed his seat in front of the fire, “that it would be worth while to +make a careful and minute entry in your private log of the manner in +which it was put up, to be afterwards followed by an account of its +effect? You might write an essay on it now, and call it the +extraordinary effects of a fall of snow in latitude so and so, eh? What +think you of it?” + +The skipper vouchsafed no reply, but made a significant gesture with +his fist, which caused Harry to put himself in a posture of defence. + +At this moment footsteps were heard on the wooden platform in front of +the building. + +Instantly all became silence and expectation in the hall as the result +of the practical joke was about to be realised. Just then another step +was heard on the platform, and it became evident that two persons were +approaching the door. + +“Hope it’ll be the right man,” said the skipper, with a look savouring +slightly of anxiety. + +As he spoke the door opened, and a foot crossed the threshold; the next +instant the miniature avalanche descended on the head and shoulders of +a man, who reeled forward from the weight of the blow, and, covered +from head to foot with snow, fell to the ground amid shouts of +laughter. + +With a convulsive stamp and shake, the prostrate figure sprang up and +confronted the party. Had the cast-iron stove suddenly burst into +atoms, and blown the roof off the house, it could scarcely have created +greater consternation than that which filled the merry jesters when +they beheld the visage of Mr. Rogan, the superintendent of the fort, +red with passion and fringed with snow. + +“So,” said he, stamping violently with his foot, partly from anger, and +partly with a view of shaking off the unexpected covering, which stuck +all over his dress in little patches, producing a somewhat piebald +effect,—“so you are pleased to jest, gentlemen. Pray, who placed that +piece of snow over the door?” Mr. Rogan glared fiercely round upon the +culprits, who stood speechless before him. + +For a moment he stood silent, as if uncertain how to act; then turning +short on his heel, he strode quickly out of the room, nearly +overturning Mr. Hamilton, who at the same instant entered it, carrying +his gun and snowshoes under his arm. + +“Dear me, what has happened?” he exclaimed, in a peculiarly gentle tone +of voice, at the same time regarding the snow and the horror-stricken +circle with a look of intense surprise. + +“You _see_ what has happened,” replied Harry Somerville, who was the +first to recover his composure; “I presume you intended to ask, ‘What +has _caused_ it to happen?’ Perhaps the skipper will explain; it’s +beyond me, quite.” + +Thus appealed to, that worthy cleared his throat, and said,— + +“Why, you see, Mr. Hamilton, a great phenomenon of meteorology has +happened. We were all standing, you must know, at the open door, taking +a squint at the weather, when our attention was attracted by a curious +object that appeared in the sky, and seemed to be coming down at the +rate of ten knots an hour, right end-on for the house. I had just time +to cry, ‘Clear out, lads,’ when it came slap in through the doorway, +and smashed to shivers there, where you see the fragments. In fact, +it’s a wonderful aërolite, and Mr. Rogan has just gone out with a lot +of the bits in his pocket, to make a careful examination of them, and +draw up a report for the Geological Society in London. I shouldn’t +wonder if he were to send off an express to-night; and maybe you will +have to convey the news to headquarters, so you’d better go and see him +about it soon.” + +_Soft_ although Mr. Hamilton was supposed to be, he was not quite +prepared to give credit to this explanation; but being of a peaceful +disposition, and altogether unaccustomed to retort, he merely smiled +his disbelief, as he proceeded to lay aside his fowling-piece, and +divest himself of the voluminous out-of-door trappings with which he +was clad. Mr. Hamilton was a tall, slender youth, of about nineteen. He +had come out by the ship in autumn, and was spending his first winter +at York Fort. Up to the period of his entering the Hudson’s Bay +Company’s service, he had never been more than twenty miles from home, +and having mingled little with the world, was somewhat unsophisticated, +besides being by nature gentle and unassuming. + +Soon after this the man who acted as cook, waiter, and butler to the +mess, entered, and said that Mr. Rogan desired to see the accountant +immediately. + +“Who am I to say did it?” enquired that gentleman, as he rose to obey +the summons. + +“Wouldn’t it be a disinterested piece of kindness if you were to say it +was yourself?” suggested the doctor. + +“Perhaps it would, but I won’t,” replied the accountant, as he made his +exit. + +In about half-an-hour Mr. Rogan and the accountant re-entered the +apartment. The former had quite regained his composure. He was +naturally amiable; which happy disposition was indicated by a +habitually cheerful look and smile. + +“Now, gentlemen,” said he, “I find that this practical joke was not +intended for me, and therefore look upon it as an unlucky accident; but +I cannot too strongly express my dislike to practical jokes of all +kinds. I have seen great evil, and some bloodshed, result from +practical jokes; and I think that, being a sufferer in consequence of +your fondness for them, I have a right to beg that you will abstain +from such doings in future—at least from such jokes as involve risk to +those who do not choose to enter into them.” + +Having given vent to this speech, Mr. Rogan left his volatile friends +to digest it at their leisure. + +“Serves us right,” said the skipper, pacing up and down the room in a +repentant frame of mind, with his thumbs hooked into the arm-holes of +his vest. + +The doctor said nothing, but breathed hard and smoked vigorously. + +While we admit most thoroughly with Mr. Rogan that practical jokes are +exceedingly bad, and productive frequently of far more evil than fun, +we feel it our duty, as a faithful delineator of manners, customs, and +character in these regions, to urge in palliation of the offence +committed by the young gentlemen at York Fort, that they had really +about as few amusements and sources of excitement as fall to the lot of +any class of men. They were entirely dependent on their own unaided +exertions, during eight or nine months of the year, for amusement or +recreation of any kind. Their books were few in number, and soon read +through. The desolate wilderness around afforded no incidents to form +subjects of conversation further than the events of a day’s shooting, +which, being nearly similar every day, soon lost all interest. No +newspapers came to tell of the doings of the busy world from which they +were shut out, and nothing occurred to vary the dull routine of their +life; so that it is not matter for wonder that they were driven to seek +for relaxation and excitement occasionally in most outrageous and +unnatural ways, and to indulge now and then in the perpetration of a +practical joke. + +For some time after the rebuke administered by Mr. Rogan, silence +reigned in _Bachelor’s Hall_, as the clerks’ house was termed. But at +length symptoms of _ennui_ began to be displayed. The doctor yawned and +lay down on his bed to enjoy an American newspaper about twelve months +old. Harry Somerville sat down to reread a volume of Franklin’s travels +in the polar regions, which he had perused twice already. Mr. Hamilton +busied himself in cleaning his fowling-piece; while the skipper +conversed with Mr. Wilson, who was engaged in his room in adjusting an +ivory head to a walking-stick. Mr. Wilson was a jack-of-all-trades, who +could make shift, one way or other, to do _anything_. The accountant +paced the uncarpeted floor in deep contemplation. + +At length he paused, and looked at Harry Somerville for some time. + +“What say you to a walk through the woods to North River, Harry?” + +“Ready,” cried Harry, tossing down the book with a look of +contempt—“ready for anything.” + +“Will _you_ come, Hamilton?” added the accountant. Hamilton looked up +in surprise. + +“You don’t mean, surely, to take so long a walk in the dark, do you? It +is snowing, too, very heavily, and I think you said that North River +was five miles off, did you not?” + +“Of course I mean to walk in the dark,” replied the accountant, “unless +you can extemporize an artificial light for the occasion, or prevail on +the moon to come out for my special benefit. As to snowing and a short +tramp of five miles, why, the sooner you get to think of such things as +_trifles_ the better, if you hope to be fit for anything in this +country.” + +“I _don’t_ think much of them,” replied Hamilton, softly and with a +slight smile; “I only meant that such a walk was not very _attractive_ +so late in the evening.” + +“Attractive!” shouted Harry Somerville from his bedroom, where he was +equipping himself for the walk; “what can be more attractive than a +sharp run of ten miles through the woods on a cool night to visit your +traps, with the prospect of a silver fox or a wolf at the end of it, +and an extra sound sleep as the result? Come, man, don’t be soft; get +ready, and go along with us.” + +“Besides,” added the accountant, “I don’t mean to come back to-night. +To-morrow, you know, is a holiday, so we can camp out in the snow after +visiting the traps, have our supper, and start early in the morning to +search for ptarmigan.” + +“Well, I will go,” said Hamilton, after this account of the pleasures +that were to be expected; “I am exceedingly anxious to learn to shoot +birds on the wing.” + +“Bless me! have you not learned that yet!” asked the doctor, in +affected surprise, as he sauntered out of his bedroom to relight his +pipe. + +The various bedrooms in the clerks’ house were ranged round the hall, +having doors that opened directly into it, so that conversation carried +on in a loud voice was heard in all the rooms at once, and was not +infrequently sustained in elevated tones from different apartments, +when the occupants were lounging, as they often did of an evening, in +their beds. + +“No,” said Hamilton, in reply to the doctor’s question, “I have not +learned yet, although there were a great many grouse in the part of +Scotland where I was brought up. But my aunt, with whom I lived, was so +fearful of my shooting either myself or someone else, and had such an +aversion to firearms, that I determined to make her mind easy, by +promising that I would never use them so long as I remained under her +roof.” + +“Quite right; very dutiful and proper,” said the doctor, with a grave, +patronising air. + +“Perhaps you’ll fall in with more _fox_ tracks of the same sort as the +one you gave chase to this morning,” shouted the skipper, from Wilson’s +room. + +“Oh! there’s hundreds of them out there,” said the accountant; “so +let’s off at once.” + +The trio now proceeded to equip themselves for the walk. Their costumes +were peculiar, and merit description. As they were similar in the chief +points, it will suffice to describe that of our friend Harry. + +On his head he wore a fur-cap made of otter-skin, with a flap on each +side to cover the ears, the frost being so intense in these climates +that without some such protection they would inevitably freeze and fall +off. + +As the nose is constantly in use for the purposes of respiration, it is +always left uncovered to fight with the cold as it best can; but it is +a hard battle, and there is no doubt that, if it were possible, a nasal +covering would be extremely pleasant. Indeed, several desperate efforts +_have_ been made to construct some sort of nose-bag, but hitherto +without success, owing to the uncomfortable fact that the breath +issuing from that organ immediately freezes, and converts the covering +into a bag of snow or ice, which is not agreeable. Round his neck Harry +wound a thick shawl of such portentious dimensions that it entirely +enveloped the neck and lower part of the face; thus the entire head +was, as it were, eclipsed—the eyes, the nose, and the cheek-bones alone +being visible. He then threw on a coat made of deer-skin, so prepared +that it bore a slight resemblance to excessively coarse chamois +leather. It was somewhat in the form of a long, wide surtout, +overlapping very much in front, and confined closely to the figure by +means of a scarlet worsted belt instead of buttons, and was ornamented +round the foot by a number of cuts, which produced a fringe of little +tails. Being lined with thick flannel, this portion of attire was +rather heavy, but extremely necessary. A pair of blue cloth leggings, +having a loose flap on the outside, were next drawn on over the +trousers, as an additional protection to the knees. The feet, besides +being portions of the body that are peculiarly susceptible of cold, had +further to contend against the chafing of the lines which attach them +to the snow-shoes, so that special care in their preparation for duty +was necessary. First were put on a pair of blanketing or duffel socks, +which were merely oblong in form, without sewing or making-up of any +kind. These were wrapped round the feet, which were next thrust into a +pair of made-up socks, of the same material, having ankle-pieces; above +these were put _another_ pair, _without_ flaps for the ankles. Over all +was drawn a pair of moccasins made of stout deer-skin, similar to that +of the coat. Of course, the elegance of Harry’s feet was entirely +destroyed, and had he been met in this guise by any of his friends in +the “old country,” they would infallibly have come to the conclusion +that he was afflicted with gout. Over his shoulders he slung a +powder-horn and shot-pouch, the latter tastefully embroidered with dyed +quill-work, A pair of deer-skin mittens, having a little bag for the +thumb, and a large bag for the fingers, completed his costume. + +While the three were making ready, with a running accompaniment of +grunts and groans at refractory pieces of apparel, the night without +became darker, and the snow fell thicker, so that when they issued +suddenly out of their warm abode, and emerged into the sharp frosty +air, which blew the snow-drift into their eyes, they felt a momentary +desire to give up the project and return to their comfortable quarters. + +“What a dismal-looking night it is!” said the accountant, as he led the +way along the wooden platform towards the gate of the fort. + +“Very!” replied Hamilton, with an involuntary shudder. + +“Keep up your heart,” said Harry, in a cheerful voice; “you’ve no +notion how your mind will change on that point when you have walked a +mile or so and got into a comfortable heat. I must confess, however, +that a little moonshine would be an improvement,” he added, on +stumbling, for the third time, off the platform into the deep snow. + +“It is full moon just now,” said the accountant, “and I think the +clouds look as if they would break soon. At any rate, I’ve been at +North River so often that I believe I could walk out there blindfold.” + +As he spoke they passed the gate, and diverging to the right, +proceeded, as well as the imperfect light permitted, along the footpath +that led to the forest. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +The walk continued—Frozen toes—An encampment in the snow. + + +After quitting York Fort, the three friends followed the track leading +to the spot where the winter’s firewood was cut. Snow was still falling +thickly, and it was with some difficulty that the accountant kept in +the right direction. The night was excessively dark, while the dense +fir forest, through which the narrow road ran, rendered the gloom if +possible more intense. + +When they had proceeded about a mile, their leader suddenly came to a +stand. + +“We must quit the track now,” said he; “so get on your snow-shoes as +fast as you can.” + +Hitherto they had carried their snow-shoes under their arms, as the +beaten track along which they travelled rendered them unnecessary; but +now, having to leave the path and pursue the remainder of their journey +through deep snow, they availed themselves of those useful machines, by +means of which the inhabitants of this part of North America are +enabled to journey over many miles of trackless wilderness, with nearly +as much ease as a sportsman can traverse the moors in autumn, and that +over snow so deep that one hour’s walk through it _without_ such aids +would completely exhaust the stoutest trapper, and advance him only a +mile or so on his journey. In other words, to walk without snow-shoes +would be utterly impossible, while to walk with them is easy and +agreeable. They are not used after the manner of skates, with a +_sliding_, but a _stepping_ action, and their sole use is to support +the wearer on the top of snow, into which without them he would sink up +to the waist. When we say that they support the wearer on the _top_ of +the snow, of course we do not mean that they literally do not break the +surface at all. But the depth to which they sink is comparatively +trifling, and varies according to the state of the snow and the season +of the year. In the woods they sink frequently about six inches, +sometimes more, sometimes less, while on frozen rivers, where the snow +is packed solid by the action of the wind, they sink only two or three +inches, and sometimes so little as to render it preferable to walk +without them altogether. Snow-shoes are made of a light, strong +framework of wood, varying from three to six feet long by eighteen and +twenty inches broad, tapering to a point before and behind, and turning +up in front. Different tribes of Indians modify the form a little, but +in all essential points they are the same. The framework is filled up +with a netting of deer-skin threads, which unites lightness with great +strength, and permits any snow that may chance to fall upon the netting +to pass through it like a sieve. + +On the present occasion the snow, having recently fallen, was soft, and +the walking, consequently, what is called heavy. + +“Come on,” shouted the accountant, as he came to a stand for the third +time within half-an-hour, to await the coming up of poor Hamilton, who, +being rather awkward in snow-shoe walking even in daylight, found it +nearly impossible in the dark. + +“Wait a little, please,” replied a faint voice in the distance; “I’ve +got among a quantity of willows, and find it very difficult to get on. +I’ve been down twice al—” + +The sudden cessation of the voice, and a loud crash as of breaking +branches, proved too clearly that our friend had accomplished his third +fall. + +“There he goes again,” exclaimed Harry Somerville, who came up at the +moment. “I’ve helped him up once already. We’ll never get to North +River at this rate. What _is_ to be done?” + +“Let’s see what has become of him this time, however,” said the +accountant, as he began to retrace his steps. “If I mistake not, he +made rather a heavy plunge that time, judging from the sound.” + +At that moment the clouds overhead broke, and a moonbeam shot down into +the forest, throwing a pale light over the cold scene. A few steps +brought Harry and the accountant to the spot whence the sound had +proceeded, and a loud startling laugh rang through the night air, as +the latter suddenly beheld poor Hamilton struggling, with his arms, +head, and shoulders stuck into the snow, his snow-shoes twisted and +sticking with the heels up and awry, in a sort of rampant confusion, +and his gun buried to the locks beside him. Regaining one’s +perpendicular after a fall in deep snow, when the feet are encumbered +by a pair of long snow-shoes, is by no means an easy thing to +accomplish, in consequence of the impossibility of getting hold of +anything solid on which to rest the hands. The depth is so great that +the outstretched arms cannot find bottom, and every successive struggle +only sinks the unhappy victim deeper down. Should no assistance be +near, he will soon beat the snow to a solidity that will enable him to +rise, but not in a very enviable or comfortable condition. + +“Give me a hand, Harry,” gasped Hamilton, as he managed to twist his +head upwards for a moment. + +“Here you are,” cried Harry, holding out his hand and endeavouring to +suppress his desire to laugh; “up with you,” and in another moment the +poor youth was upon his legs, with every fold and crevice about his +person stuffed to repletion with snow. + +“Come, cheer up,” cried the accountant, giving the youth a slap on the +back; “there’s nothing like experience—the proverb says that it even +teaches fools, so you need not despair.” + +Hamilton smiled as he endeavoured to shake off some of his white +coating. + +“We’ll be all right immediately,” added Harry; “I see that the country +ahead is more open, so the walking will be easier.” + +“Oh, I wish that I had not come!” said Hamilton, sorrowfully, “because +I am only detaining you. But perhaps I shall do better as we get on. At +any rate, I cannot go back now, as I could never find the way.” + +“Go back! of course not,” said the accountant; “in a short time we +shall get into the old woodcutters’ track of last year, and although +it’s not beaten at all, yet it is pretty level and open, so that we +shall get on famously.” + +“Go on, then,” sighed Hamilton. + +“Drive ahead,” laughed Harry, and without further delay they resumed +their march, which was soon rendered more cheerful as the clouds rolled +away, the snow ceased to fall, and the bright full moon poured its rays +down upon their path. + +For a long time they proceeded in silence, the muffled sound of the +snow, as it sank beneath their regular footsteps, being the only +interruption to the universal stillness around. There is something very +solemnizing in a scene such as we are now describing—the calm +tranquillity of the arctic night; the pure whiteness of the snowy +carpet, which rendered the dark firs inky black by contrast; the clear, +cold, starry sky, that glimmered behind the dark clouds, whose heavy +masses, now rolling across the moon, partially obscured the landscape, +and anon, passing slowly away, let a flood of light down upon the +forest, which, penetrating between the thick branches, scattered the +surface of the snow, as it were, with flakes of silver. Sleep has often +been applied as a simile to nature in repose, but in this case death +seemed more appropriate. So silent, so cold, so still was the scene, +that it filled the mind with an indefinable feeling of dread, as if +there was some mysterious danger near. Once or twice during their walk +the three travellers paused to rest, but they spoke little, and in +subdued voices, as if they feared to break the silence of the night. + +“It is strange,” said Harry, in a low tone, as he walked beside +Hamilton, “that such a scene as this always makes me think more than +usual of home.” + +“And yet it is natural,” replied the other, “because it reminds us more +forcibly than any other that we are in a foreign land—in the lonely +wilderness—far away from home.” + +Both Harry and Hamilton had been trained in families where the Almighty +was feared and loved, and where their minds had been early led to +reflect upon the Creator when regarding the works of His hand: their +thoughts, therefore, naturally reverted to another home, compared with +which this world is indeed a cold, lonely wilderness; but on such +subjects they feared to converse, partly from a dread of the ridicule +of reckless companions, partly from ignorance of each other’s feelings +on religious matters, and although their minds were busy, their tongues +were silent. + +The ground over which the greater part of their path lay was a swamp, +which, being now frozen, was a beautiful white plain, so that their +advance was more rapid, until they approached the belt of woodland that +skirts North River. Here they again encountered the heavy snow, which +had been such a source of difficulty to Hamilton at setting out. He had +profited by his former experience, however, and by the exercise of an +excessive degree of caution managed to scramble through the woods +tolerably well, emerging at last, along with his companions, on the +bleak margin of what appeared to be the frozen sea. + +North River, at this place, is several miles broad, and the opposite +shore is so low that the snow causes it to appear but a slight +undulation of the frozen bed of the river. Indeed, it would not be +distinguishable at all, were it not for the willow bushes and dwarf +pines, whose tops, rising above the white garb of winter, indicate that +_terra firma_ lies below. + +“What a cold, desolate-looking place!” said Hamilton, as the party +stood still to recover breath before taking their way over the plain to +the spot where the accountant’s traps were set. “It looks much more +like the frozen sea than a river.” + +“It can scarcely be called a river at this place,” remarked the +accountant, “seeing that the water hereabouts is brackish, and the +tides ebb and flow a good way up. In fact, this is the extreme mouth of +North River, and if you turn your eyes a little to the right, towards +yonder ice-hummock in the plain, you behold the frozen sea itself.” + +“Where are your traps set?” inquired Harry. + +“Down in the hollow, behind yon point covered with brushwood.” + +“Oh, we shall soon get to them then; come along,” cried Harry. + +Harry was mistaken, however. He had not yet learned by experience the +extreme difficulty of judging of distance in the uncertain light of +night—a difficulty that was increased by the ignorance of the locality, +and by the gleams of moonshine that shot through the driving clouds and +threw confused fantastic shadows over the plain. The point which he had +at first supposed was covered with low bushes, and about a hundred +yards off, proved to be clad in reality with large bushes and small +trees, and lay at a distance of two miles. + +“I think you have been mistaken in supposing the point so near, Harry,” +said Hamilton, as he trudged on beside his friend. + +“A fact evident to the naked eye,” replied Harry. “How do your feet +stand it, eh? Beginning to lose bark yet?” + +Hamilton did not feel quite sure. “I think,” said he softly, “that +there is a blister under the big toe of my left foot. It feels very +painful.” + +“If you feel at all _uncertain_ about it, you may rest assured that +there _is_ a blister. These things don’t give much pain at first. I’m +sorry to tell you, my dear fellow, that you’ll be painfully aware of +the fact to-morrow. However, don’t distress yourself; it’s a part of +the experience that everyone goes through in this country. Besides,” +said Harry smiling, “we can send to the fort for medical advice.” + +“Don’t bother the poor fellow, and hold your tongue. Harry,” said the +accountant, who now began to tread more cautiously as he approached the +place where the traps were set. + +“How many traps have you?” inquired Harry in a low tone. + +“Three,” replied the accountant. + +“Do you know I have a very strange feeling about my heels—or rather a +want of feeling,” said Hamilton, smiling dubiously. + +“A want of feeling! what do you mean?” cried the accountant, stopping +suddenly and confronting his young friend. + +“Oh, I daresay it’s nothing,” he exclaimed, looking as if ashamed of +having spoken of it; “only I feel exactly as if both my heels were cut +off, and I were walking on tip-toe!” + +“Say you so? then right about wheel. Your heels are frozen, man, and +you’ll lose them if you don’t look sharp.” + +“Frozen!” cried Hamilton, with a look of incredulity. + +“Ay, frozen; and it’s lucky you told me. I’ve a place up in the woods +here, which I call my winter camp, where we can get you put to rights. +But step out; the longer we are about it the worse for you.” + +Harry Somerville was at first disposed to think that the accountant +jested, but seeing that he turned his back towards his traps, and made +for the nearest point of the thick woods with a stride that betokened +thorough sincerity, he became anxious too, and followed as fast as +possible. + +The place to which the accountant led his young friends was a group of +fir trees which grew on a little knoll, that rose a few feet above the +surrounding level country. At the foot of this hillock a small rivulet +or burn ran in summer, but the only evidence of its presence now was +the absence of willow bushes all along its covered narrow bed. A level +tract was thus formed by nature, free from all underwood, and running +inland about the distance of a mile, where it was lost in the swamp +whence the stream issued. The wooded knoll or hillock lay at the mouth +of this brook, and being the only elevated spot in the neighbourhood, +besides having the largest trees growing on it, had been selected by +the accountant as a convenient place for “camping out” on, when he +visited his traps in winter, and happened to be either too late or +disinclined to return home. Moreover, the spreading fir branches +afforded an excellent shelter alike from wind and snow in the centre of +the clump, while from the margin was obtained a partial view of the +river and the sea beyond. Indeed, from this look-out there was a very +fine prospect on clear winter nights of the white landscape, enlivened +occasionally by groups of arctic foxes, which might be seen scampering +about in sport, and gambolling among the hummocks of ice like young +kittens. + +“Now we shall turn up here,” said the accountant, as he walked a short +way up the brook before mentioned, and halted in front of what appeared +to be an impenetrable mass of bushes. + +“We shall have to cut our way, then,” said Harry, looking to the right +and left in the vain hope of discovering a place where, the bushes +being less dense, they might effect an entrance into the knoll or +grove. + +“Not so. I have taken care to make a passage into my winter camp, +although it was only a whim, after all, to make a concealed entrance, +seeing that no one ever passes this way except wolves and foxes, whose +noses render the use of their eyes in most cases unnecessary.” + +So saying, the accountant turned aside a thick branch, and disclosed a +narrow track, into which he entered, followed by his two companions. + +A few minutes brought them to the centre of the knoll. Here they found +a clear space of about twenty feet in diameter, round which the trees +circled so thickly that in daylight nothing could be seen but +tree-stems as far as the eye could penetrate, while overhead the broad +flat branches of the firs, with their evergreen verdure, spread out and +interlaced so thickly that very little light penetrated into the space +below. Of course at night, even in moonlight, the place was pitch dark. +Into this retreat the accountant led his companions, and bidding them +stand still for a minute lest they should stumble into the fireplace, +he proceeded to strike a light. + +Those who have never travelled in the wild parts of this world can form +but a faint conception of the extraordinary and sudden change that is +produced, not only in the scene, but in the mind of the beholder, when +a blazing fire is lighted on a dark night. Before the fire is kindled, +and you stand, perhaps (as Harry and his friend did on the present +occasion) shivering in the cold, the heart sinks, and sad, gloomy +thoughts arise, while your eye endeavours to pierce the thick darkness, +which, if it succeeds in doing so, only adds to the effect by +disclosing the pallid snow, the cold, chilling beams of the moon, the +wide vista of savage scenery, the awe-inspiring solitudes that tell of +your isolated condition, or stir up sad memories of other and +far-distant scenes. But the moment the first spark of fire sends a +fitful gleam of light upwards, these thoughts and feelings take wing +and vanish. The indistinct scenery is rendered utterly invisible by the +red light, which attracts and rivets the eye as if by a species of +fascination. The deep shadows of the woods immediately around you grow +deeper and blacker as the flames leap and sparkle upwards, causing the +stems of the surrounding trees, and the foliage of the overhanging +branches, to stand out in bold relief, bathed in a ruddy glow, which +converts the forest chamber into a snug _home-like_ place, and fills +the mind with agreeable, _home-like_ feelings and meditations. It +seemed as if the spirit, in the one case, were set loose and +etherealized to enable it to spread itself over the plains of cold, +cheerless, illimitable space, and left to dwell upon objects too wide +to grasp, too indistinct to comprehend; while, in the other, it is +recalled and concentrated upon matters circumscribed and congenial, +things of which it has long been cognizant, and which it can appreciate +and enjoy without the effort of a thought. + +Some such thoughts and feelings passed rapidly through the minds of +Harry and Hamilton, while the accountant struck a light and kindled a +roaring fire of logs, which he had cut and arranged there on a previous +occasion. In the middle of the space thus brilliantly illuminated, the +snow had been cleared away till the moss was uncovered, thus leaving a +hole of about ten feet in diameter. As the snow was quite four feet +deep, the hole was surrounded with a pure white wall, whose height was +further increased by the masses thrown out in the process of digging to +nearly six feet. At one end of this space was the large fire which had +just been kindled, and which, owing to the intense cold, only melted a +very little of the snow in its immediate neighbourhood. At the other +end lay a mass of flat pine branches, which were piled up so thickly as +to form a pleasant elastic couch, the upper end being slightly raised +so as to form a kind of bolster, while the lower extended almost into +the fire. Indeed, the branches at the extremity were burnt quite brown, +and some of them charred. Beside the bolster lay a small wooden box, a +round tin kettle, an iron tea-kettle, two tin mugs, a hatchet, and a +large bundle tied up in a green blanket. There were thus, as it were, +two apartments, one within the other—namely, the outer one, whose walls +were formed of tree-stems and thick darkness, and the ceiling of green +boughs; and then the inner one, with walls of snow, that sparkled in +the firelight as if set with precious stones, and a carpet of evergreen +branches. + +Within this latter our three friends were soon actively employed. Poor +Hamilton’s moccasins were speedily removed, and his friends, going down +on their knees, began to rub his feet with a degree of energy that +induced him to beg for mercy. + +“Mercy!” exclaimed the accountant, without pausing for an instant; +“faith, it’s little mercy there would be in stopping just now.—Rub +away, Harry. Don’t give in. They’re coming right at last.” + +After a very severe rubbing, the heels began to show symptoms of +returning vitality. They were then wrapped up in the folds of a thick +blanket, and held sufficiently near to the fire to prevent any chance +of the frost getting at them again. + +“Now, my boy,” said the accountant, as he sat down to enjoy a pipe and +rest himself on a blanket, which, along with the one wrapped round +Hamilton’s feet, had been extracted from the green bundle before +mentioned—“now, my boy, you’ll have to enjoy yourself here as you best +can for an hour or two, while Harry and I visit the traps. Would you +like supper before we go, or shall we have it on our return?” + +“Oh, I’ll wait for it by all means till you return. I don’t feel a bit +hungry just now, and it will be much more cheerful to have it after all +your work is over. Besides, I feel my feet too painful to enjoy it just +now.” + +“My poor fellow,” said Harry, whose heart smote him for having been +disposed at first to treat the thing lightly, “I’m really sorry for +you. Would you not like me to stay with you?” + +“By no means,” replied Hamilton quickly. “You can do nothing more for +me, Harry; and I should be very sorry if you missed seeing the traps.” + +“Oh, never mind the traps. I’ve seen traps, and set them too, fifty +times before now. I’ll stop with you, old boy, I will,” said Harry +doggedly, while he made arrangements to settle down for the evening. + +“Well, if _you_ won’t go, I will,” said Hamilton coolly, as he unwound +the blanket from his feet and began to pull on his socks. + +“Bravo, my lad!” exclaimed the accountant, patting him approvingly on +the back; “I didn’t think you had half so much pluck in you. But it +won’t do, old fellow. You’re in _my_ castle just now, and must obey +orders. You couldn’t walk half-a-mile for your life; so just be pleased +to pull off your socks again. Besides, I want Harry to help me to carry +up my foxes, if there are any;—so get ready, sirrah!” + +“Ay, ay, captain,” cried Harry, with a laugh, while he sprang up and +put on his snow-shoes. + +“You needn’t bring your gun,” said the accountant, shaking the ashes +from his pipe as he prepared to depart, “but you may as well shove that +axe into your belt; you may want it.—Now, mind, don’t roast your feet,” +he added, turning to Hamilton. + +“Adieu!” cried Harry, with a nod and a smile, as he turned to go. “Take +care the bears don’t find you out.” + +“No fear. Good-bye, Harry,” replied Hamilton, as his two friends +disappeared in the wood and left him to his solitary meditations. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +Shows how the accountant and Harry set their traps, and what came of +it. + + +The moon was still up, and the sky less overcast, when our amateur +trappers quitted the encampment, and, descending to the mouth of the +little brook, took their way over North River in the direction of the +accountant’s traps. Being somewhat fatigued both in mind and body by +the unusual exertions of the night, neither of them spoke for some +time, but continued to walk in silence, contemplatively gazing at their +long shadows. + +“Did you ever trap a fox, Harry?” said the accountant at length. + +“Yes, I used to set traps at Red River; but the foxes there are not +numerous, and are so closely watched by the dogs that they have become +suspicious. I caught but few.” + +“Then you know how to _set_ a trap?” + +“Oh, yes; I’ve set both steel and snow traps often. You’ve heard of old +Labonté, who used to carry one of the winter packets from Red River +until within a few years back?” + +“Yes, I’ve heard of him; his name is in my ledger—at least, if you mean +Pierre Labonté, who came down last fall with the brigade.” + +“The same. Well, he was a great friend of mine. His little cabin lay +about two miles from Fort Garry, and after work was over in the office +I used to go down to sit and chat with him by the fire, and many a time +I have sat up half the night listening to him as he recounted his +adventures. The old man never tired of relating them, and of smoking +twist tobacco. Among other things, he set my mind upon trapping, by +giving me an account of an expedition he made, when quite a youth, to +the Rocky Mountains; so I got him to go into the woods and teach me how +to set traps and snares, and I flatter myself he found me an apt +pupil.” + +“Humph!” ejaculated the accountant; “I have no doubt you do _flatter_ +yourself. But here we are. The traps are just beyond that mound; so +look out, and don’t stick your feet into them.” + +“Hist!” exclaimed Harry, laying his hand suddenly on his companion’s +arm. “Do you see _that_?” pointing towards the place where the traps +were said to be. + +“You have sharp eyes, younker. I _do_ see it, now that you point it +out. It’s a fox, and caught, too, as I’m a scrivener.” + +“You’re in luck to-night,” exclaimed Harry, eagerly, “It’s a _silver_ +fox. I see the white tip on its tail.” + +“Nonsense,” cried the accountant, hastening forward; “but we’ll soon +settle the point.” + +Harry proved to be right. On reaching the spot they found a beautiful +black fox, caught by the fore leg in a steel trap, and gazing at them +with a look of terror. + +The skin of the silver fox—so called from a slight sprinkling of pure +white hairs covering its otherwise jet-black body—is the most valuable +fur obtained by the fur-traders, and fetches an enormous price in the +British market, so much as thirty pounds sterling being frequently +obtained for a single skin. The foxes vary in colour from jet black, +which is the most valuable, to a light silvery hue, and are hailed as +great prizes by the Indians and trappers when they are so fortunate as +to catch them. They are not numerous, however, and being exceedingly +wary and suspicious, are difficult to catch, ft may be supposed, +therefore, that our friend the accountant ran to secure his prize with +some eagerness. + +“Now, then, my beauty, don’t shrink,” he said, as the poor fox backed +at his approach as far as the chain which fastened the trap to a log of +wood, would permit, and then, standing at bay, showed a formidable row +of teeth. That grin was its last; another moment, and the handle of the +accountant’s axe stretched it lifeless on the snow. + +“Isn’t it a beauty!” cried he, surveying the animal with a look of +triumphant pleasure; and then feeling as if he had compromised his +dignity a little by betraying so much glee, he added, “But come now, +Harry; we must see to the other traps. It’s getting late.” + +The others were soon visited; but no more foxes were caught. However, +the accountant set them both off to see that all was right; and then +readjusting one himself, told Harry to set the other, in order to clear +himself of the charge of boasting. + +Harry, nothing loath, went down on his knees to do so. + +The steel trap used for catching foxes is of exactly the same form as +the ordinary rat-trap, with this difference, that it has two springs +instead of one, is considerably larger, and has no teeth, as these +latter would only tend to spoil the skin. Owing to the strength of the +springs, a pretty strong effort is required to set the trap, and, +clumsy fellows frequently catch the tails of their coats or the ends of +their belts, and not unfrequently the ends of their fingers, in their +awkward attempts. Haying set it without any of the above untoward +accidents occurring, Harry placed it gently on a hole which he had +previously scraped—placing it in such a manner that the jaws and plate, +or trigger, were a hair-breadth below the level of the snow. After this +he spread over it a very thin sheet of paper, observing as he did so +that hay or grass was preferable; but as there was none at hand, paper +would do. Over this he sprinkled snow very lightly, until every vestige +of the trap was concealed from view, and the whole was made quite level +with the surrounding plain, so that even the accountant himself, after +he had once removed his eyes from it, could not tell where it lay. Some +chips of a frozen ptarmigan were then scattered around the spot, and a +piece of wood left to mark its whereabouts. The bait is always +scattered _round_ and not _on_ the trap, as the fox, in running from +one piece to another, is almost certain to set his foot on it, and so +get caught by the leg; whereas, were the bait placed _upon_ the trap, +the fox would be apt to get caught, while in the act of eating, by the +snout, which, being wedge-like in form, is easily dragged out of its +gripe. + +“Now then, what say you to going farther out on the river, and making a +snow trap for white foxes?” said the accountant. “We shall still have +time to do so before the moon sets.” + +“Agreed,” cried Harry. “Come along.” + +Without further parley they left the spot and stretched out towards the +sea. + +The snow on the river was quite hard on its surface, so that snow-shoes +being unnecessary, they carried them over their shoulders, and advanced +much more rapidly. It is true that their road was a good deal broken, +and jagged pieces of ice protruded their sharp corners so as to render +a little attention necessary in walking; but one or two severe bumps on +their toes made our friends sensitively alive to these minor dangers of +the way. + +“There goes a pack of them!” exclaimed Harry, as a troop of white foxes +scampered past, gambolling as they went, and, coming suddenly to a halt +at a short distance, wheeled about and sat down on their haunches, +apparently resolved to have a good look at the strangers who dared to +venture into their wild domain. + +“Oh, they are the most stupid brutes alive,” said the accountant, as he +regarded the pack with a look of contempt. “I’ve seen one of them sit +down and look at me while I set a trap right before his eyes; and I had +not got a hundred yards from the spot when a yell informed me that the +gentleman’s curiosity had led him to put his foot right into it.” + +“Indeed!” exclaimed Harry. “I had no idea that they were so tame. +Certainly no other kind of fox would do that.” + +“No, that’s certain. But these fellows have done it to me again and +again. I shouldn’t wonder if we got one to-night in the very same way. +I’m sure, by the look of these rascals, that they would do anything of +a reckless, stupid nature just now.” + +“Had we not better make our trap here, then? There is a point, not +fifty yards off, with trees on it large enough for our purpose.” + +“Yes; it will do very well here. Now, then, to work. Go to the wood, +Harry, and fetch a log or two, while I cut out the slabs.” So saying, +the accountant drew the axe which he always carried in his belt; and +while Harry entered the wood and began to hew off the branch of a tree, +he proceeded, as he had said, to “cut out the slabs.” With the point of +his knife he first of all marked out an oblong in the snow, then cut +down three or four inches with the axe, and putting the handle under +the cut, after the manner of a lever, detached a thick solid slab of +about three inches thick, which, although not so hard as ice, was quite +hard enough for the purpose for which it was intended. He then cut two +similar slabs, and a smaller one, the same in thickness and breadth, +but only half the length. Having accomplished this, he raised himself +to rest a little, and observed that Harry approached, staggering under +a load of wood, and that the foxes were still sitting on their +haunches, gazing at him with a look of deep interest. + +“If I only had my gun here!” thought he. But not having it, he merely +shook his fist at them, stooped down again, and resumed his work. With +Harry’s assistance the slabs were placed in such a way as to form a +sort of box or house, having one end of it open. This was further +plastered with soft snow at the joinings, and banked up in such a way +that no animal could break into it easily—at least such an attempt +would be so difficult as to make an entrance into the interior by the +open side much more probable. When this was finished, they took the +logs that Harry had cut and carried with so much difficulty from the +wood, and began to lop off the smaller branches and twigs. One large +log was placed across the opening of the trap, while the others were +piled on one end of it so as to press it down with their weight. Three +small pieces of stick were now prepared—two of them being about half a +foot long, and the other about a foot. On the long piece of stick the +breast of a ptarmigan was fixed as a bait, and two notches cut, the one +at the end of it, the other about four or five inches further down. All +was now ready to set the trap. + +“Raise the log now while I place the trigger,” said Harry, kneeling +down in front of the door, while the accountant, as directed, lifted up +the log on which the others lay so as to allow his companion to +introduce the bait-stick, in such a manner as to support it, while the +slightest pull on the bait would set the stick with the notches free, +and thus permit the log to fall on the back of the fox, whose effort to +reach the bait would necessarily place him under it. + +While Harry was thus engaged, the accountant stood up and looked +towards the foxes. They had approached so near in their curiosity, that +he was induced to throw his axe frantically at the foremost of the +pack. This set them galloping off, but they soon halted and sat down as +before. + +“What aggravating brutes they are, to be sure!” said Harry, with a +laugh, as his companion returned with the hatchet. + +“Humph! yes, but we’ll be upsides with them yet. Come along into the +wood, and I wager that in ten minutes we shall have one.” + +They immediately hurried towards the wood, but had not walked fifty +paces when they were startled by a loud yell behind them. + +“Dear me!” exclaimed the accountant, while he and Harry turned round +with a start. “It cannot surely be possible that they have gone in +already.” A loud howl followed the remark, and the whole pack fled over +the plain like snow-drift, and disappeared. + +“Ah, that’s a pity! something must have scared them to make them take +wing like that. However, we’ll get one to-morrow for certain; so come +along, lad, let us make for the camp.” + +“Not so fast,” replied the other; “if you hadn’t pored over the big +ledger till you were blind, you would see that there is _one_ prisoner +already.” + +This proved to be the case. On returning to the spot they found an +arctic fox in his last gasp, lying flat on the snow, with the heavy log +across his back, which seemed to be broken. A slight tap on the snout +with the accountant’s deadly axe-handle completed its destruction. + +“We’re in luck to-night,” cried Harry, as he kneeled again to reset the +trap. “But after all these white brutes are worth very little; I fancy +a hundred of their skins would not be worth the black one you got +first.” + +“Be quick, Harry; the moon is almost down, and poor Hamilton will think +that the polar bears have got hold of us.” + +“Ail right! Now then, step out,” and glancing once more at the trap to +see that all was properly arranged, the two friends once more turned +their faces homewards, and travelled over the snow with rapid strides. + +The moon had just set, leaving the desolate scene in deep gloom, so +that they could scarcely find their way to the forest; and when they +did at last reach its shelter, the night became so intensely dark that +they had almost to grope their way, and would certainly have lost it +altogether were it not for the accountant’s thorough knowledge of the +locality. To add to their discomfort, as they stumbled on, snow began +to fall, and ere long a pretty steady breeze of wind drove it sharply +in their faces. However, this mattered but little, as they penetrated +deeper in among the trees, which proved a complete shelter both from +wind and snow. An hour’s march brought them to the mouth of the brook, +although half that time would have been sufficient had it been +daylight, and a few minutes later they had the satisfaction of hearing +Hamilton’s voice hailing them as they pushed aside the bushes and +sprang into the cheerful light of their encampment. + +“Hurrah!” shouted Harry, as he leaped into the space before the fire, +and flung the two foxes at Hamilton’s feet. “What do you think of +_that_, old fellow? How are the heels? Rather sore, eh? Now for the +kettle. Polly, put the kettle on; we’ll all have—My eye! where’s the +kettle, Hamilton? have you eaten it?” + +“If you compose yourself a little, Harry, and look at the fire, you’ll +see it boiling there.” + +“Man, what a chap you are for making unnecessary speeches! Couldn’t you +tell me to look at the fire without the preliminary piece of advice to +_compose_ myself? Besides, you talk nonsense, for I’m composed already, +of blood, bones, flesh, sinews, fat, and—” + +“Humbug!” interrupted the accountant. “Lend a hand to get supper, you +young goose!” + +“And so,” continued Harry, not noticing the interruption, “I cannot be +expected, nor is it necessary, to _compose_ myself over again. But to +be serious,” he added, “it was very kind and considerate of you, Hammy, +to put on the kettle, when your heels were in a manner uppermost.” + +“Oh, it was nothing at all; my heels are much better, thank you, and it +kept me from wearying.” + +“Poor fellow!” said the accountant, while he busied himself in +preparing their evening meal, “you must be quite ravenous by this +time—at least _I_ am, which is the same thing.” + +Supper was soon ready. It consisted of a large kettle of tea, a lump of +pemmican, a handful of broken biscuit, and three ptarmigan—all of which +were produced from the small wooden box which the accountant was wont +to call his camp-larder. The ptarmigan had been shot two weeks before, +and carefully laid up for future use; the intense frost being a +sufficient guarantee for their preservation for many months, had that +been desired. + +It would have done you good, reader (supposing you to be possessed of +sympathetic feelings), to have witnessed those three nor’-westers +enjoying their supper in the snowy camp. The fire had been replenished +with logs, till it roared and crackled again, as if it were endued with +a vicious spirit, and wished to set the very snow in flames. The walls +shone like alabaster studded with diamonds, while the green boughs +overhead and the stems around were of a deep red colour in the light of +the fierce blaze. The tea-kettle hissed, fumed, and boiled over into +the fire. A mass of pemmican simmered in the lid in front of it. Three +pannikins of tea reposed on the green branches, their refreshing +contents sending up little clouds of steam, while the ptarmigan, now +split up, skewered, and roasted, were being heartily devoured by our +three hungry friends. + +The pleasures that fall to the lot of man are transient. Doubtless they +are numerous and oft recurring; still they are transient, and so—supper +came to an end. + +“Now for a pipe,” said the accountant, disposing his limbs at full +length on a green blanket. “O thou precious weed, what should we do +without thee!” + +“Smoke _tea_, to be sure,” answered Harry. + +“Ah! true, it _is_ possible to exist on a pipe of tea-leaves for a +time, but _only_ for a time. I tried it myself once, in desperation, +when I ran short of tobacco on a journey, and found it execrable, but +better than nothing.” + +“Pity we can’t join you in that.” remarked Harry. + +“True; but perhaps since you cannot pipe, it might prove an agreeable +diversification to dance.” + +“Thank you, I’d rather not,” said Harry; “and as for Hamilton, I’m +convinced that _his_ mind is made up on the subject.—How go the heels +now?” + +“Thank you, pretty well,” he replied, reclining his head on the pine +branches, and extending his smitten members towards the fire. “I think +they will be quite well in the morning.” + +“It is a curious thing,” remarked the accountant, in a soliloquising +tone, “that _soft_ fellows _never_ smoke!” + +“I beg your pardon,” said Harry, “I’ve often seen hot loaves smoke, and +they’re soft enough fellows, in all conscience!” + +“Ah!” sighed the accountant, “that reminds me of poor Peterkin, who was +_so_ soft that he went by the name of ‘Butter.’ Did you ever hear of +what he did the summer before last with an Indian’s head?” + +“No, never; what was it!” + +“I’ll tell you the story,” replied the accountant, drawing a few +vigorous whiffs of smoke, to prevent his pipe going out while he spoke. + +As the story in question, however, depicts a new phase of society in +the woods, it deserves a chapter to itself. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +The accountant’s story. + + +“Spring had passed away, and York Fort was filled with all the bustle +and activity of summer. Brigades came pouring in upon us with furs from +the interior, and as every boat brought a C. T. or a clerk, our +mess-table began to overflow. + +“You’ve not seen the summer mess-room filled yet, Hamilton. That’s a +treat in store for you.” + +“It was pretty full last autumn, I think,” suggested Hamilton, “at the +time I arrived from England.” + +“Full! why, man, it was getting to feel quite lonely at that time. I’ve +seen more than fifty sit down to table there, and it was worth going +fifty miles to hear the row they kicked up—telling stories without end +(and sometimes without foundation) about their wild doings in the +interior, where every man-jack of them having spent at least eight +months almost in perfect solitude, they hadn’t had a chance of letting +their tongues go till they came down here. But to proceed. When the +ship came out in the fall, she brought a batch of new clerks, and among +them was this miserable chap Peterkin, whom we soon nicknamed _Butter_. +He was the softest fellow I ever knew (far worse than you, Hamilton), +and he hadn’t been here a week before the wild blades from the +interior, who were bursting with fun and mischief, began to play off +all kinds of practical jokes upon him. The very first day he sat down +at the mess-table, our worthy governor (who, you are aware, detests +practical jokes) played him a trick, quite unintentionally, which +raised a laugh against him for many a day. You know that old Mr. Rogan +is rather absent at times; well, the first day that Peterkin came to +mess (it was breakfast), the old governor asked him, in a patronizing +sort of way, to sit at his right hand. Accordingly down he sat, and +having never, I fancy, been away from his mother’s apron-string before, +he seemed to feel very uncomfortable, especially as he was regarded as +a sort of novelty. The first thing he did was to capsize his plate into +his lap, which set the youngsters at the lower end of the table into +suppressed fits of laughter. However, he was eating the leg of a dry +grouse at the time, so it didn’t make much of a mess. + +“‘Try some fish, Peterkin,’ said Mr. Rogan kindly, seeing that the +youth was ill at ease. ‘That old grouse is tough enough to break your +knife.’ + +“‘A very rough passage,’ replied the youngster, whose mind was quite +confused by hearing the captain of the ship, who sat next to him, +giving to his next neighbour a graphic account of the voyage in a very +loud key—‘I mean, if you please, no, thank you,’ he stammered, +endeavouring to correct himself. + +“‘Ah! a cup of tea perhaps.—Here, Anderson’ (turning to the butler), ‘a +cup of tea to Mr. Peterkin.’ + +“The butler obeyed the order. + +“‘And here, fill my cup,’ said old Rogan, interrupting himself in an +earnest conversation, into which he had plunged with the gentleman on +his left hand. As he said this he lifted his cup to empty the slops, +but without paying attention to what he was doing. As luck would have +it, the slop-basin was not at hand, and Peterkin’s cup _was_, so he +emptied it innocently into that. Peterkin hadn’t courage to arrest his +hand, and when the deed was done he looked timidly round to see if the +action had been observed. Nearly half the table had seen it, but they +pretended ignorance of the thing so well that he thought no one had +observed, and so went quietly on with his breakfast, and drank the tea! +But I am wandering from my story. Well, about this time there was a +young Indian who shot himself accidentally in the woods, and was +brought to the fort to see if anything could be done for him. The +doctor examined his wound, and found that the ball had passed through +the upper part of his right arm and the middle of his right thigh, +breaking the bone of the latter in its passage. It was an extraordinary +shot for a man to put into himself, for it would have been next to +impossible even for _another_ man to have done it, unless the Indian +had been creeping on all fours. When he was able to speak, however, he +explained the mystery. While running through a rough part of the wood +after a wounded bird, he stumbled and fell on all fours. The gun, which +he was carrying over his shoulder, holding it, as the Indians usually +do, by the muzzle, flew forward, and turned right round as he fell, so +that the mouth of it was presented towards him. Striking against the +stem of a tree, it exploded and shot him through the arm and leg as +described ere he had time to rise. A comrade carried him to his lodge, +and his wife brought him in a canoe to the fort. For three or four days +the doctor had hopes of him, but at last he began to sink, and died on +the sixth day after his arrival. His wife and one or two friends buried +him in our graveyard, which lies, as you know, on that lonely-looking +point just below the powder-magazine. For several months previous to +this our worthy doctor had been making strenuous efforts to get an +Indian skull to send home to one of his medical friends, but without +success. The Indians could not be prevailed upon to cut off the head of +one of their dead countrymen for love or money, and the doctor had a +dislike to the idea, I suppose, of killing one for himself; but now +here was a golden opportunity. The Indian was buried near to the fort, +and his relatives had gone away to their tents again. What was to +prevent his being dug up? The doctor brooded over the thing for one +hour and a half (being exactly the length of time required to smoke out +his large Turkey pipe), and then sauntered into Wilson’s room. Wilson +was busy, as usual, at some of his mechanical contrivances. + +“Thrusting his hands deep into his breeches pockets, and seating +himself on an old sea-chest, he began,— + +“‘I say, Wilson, will you do me a favour?’ + +“‘That depends entirely on what the favour is,’ he replied, without +raising his head from his work. + +“‘I want you to help me to cut off an Indian’s head!’ + +“‘Then I _won’t_ do you the favour. But pray, don’t humbug me just now; +I’m busy.’ + +“‘No; but I’m serious, and I can’t get it done without help, and I know +you’re an obliging fellow. Besides, the savage is dead, and has no +manner of use for his head now.’ + +“Wilson turned round with a look of intelligence on hearing this. + +“‘Ha!’ he exclaimed, ‘I see what you’re up to; but I don’t half like +it. In the first place, his friends would be terribly cut up if they +heard of it; and then I’ve no sort of aptitude for the work of a +resurrectionist; and then, if it got wind, we should never hear the +last of it; and then—’ + +“‘And then,’ interrupted the doctor, ‘it would be adding to the light +of medical science, you unaspiring monster.’ + +“‘A light,’ retorted Wilson, ‘which, in passing through _some_ members +of the medical profession, is totally absorbed, and reproduced in the +shape of impenetrable darkness.’ + +“‘Now, don’t object, my dear fellow; you _know_ you’re going to do it, +so don’t coquette with me, but agree at once.’ + +“‘Well, I consent, upon one condition.’ + +“‘And what is that?’ + +“‘That you do not play any practical jokes on _me_ with the head when +you have got it.’ + +“‘Agreed!’ cried the doctor, laughing; ‘I give you my word of honour. +Now he has been buried three days already, so we must set about it at +once. Fortunately the graveyard is composed of a sandy soil, so he’ll +keep for some time yet. + +“The two worthies then entered into a deep consultation as to how they +were to set about this deed of darkness. It was arranged that Wilson +should take his gun and sally forth a little before dark, as if he were +bent on an hour’s sport, and, not forgetting his game-bag, proceed to +the graveyard, where the doctor engaged to meet him with a couple of +spades and a dark lantern. Accordingly, next evening, Mr. Wilson, true +to his promise, shouldered his gun and sallied forth. + +“It soon became an intensely dark night. Not a single star shone forth +to illumine the track along which he stumbled. Everything around was +silent and dark, and congenial with the work on which he was bent. But +Wilson’s heart beat a little more rapidly than usual. He is a bold +enough man, as you know, but boldness goes for nothing when +superstition comes into play. However, he trudged along fearlessly +enough till he came to the thick woods just below the fort, into which +he entered with something of a qualm. Scarcely had he set foot on the +narrow track that leads to the graveyard, when he ran slap against the +post that stands there, but which, in his trepidation, he had entirely +forgotten. This quite upset the small amount of courage that remained, +and he has since confessed that if he had not had the hope of meeting +with the doctor in a few minutes, he would have turned round and fled +at that moment. + +“Recovering a little from this accident, he hurried forward, but with +more caution, for although the night seemed as dark as could possibly +be while he was crossing the open country, it became speedily evident +that there were several shades of darkness which he had not yet +conceived. In a few minutes he came to the creek that runs past the +graveyard, and here again his nerves got another shake; for slipping +his foot while in the act of commencing the descent, he fell and rolled +heavily to the bottom, making noise enough in his fall to scare away +all the ghosts in the country. With a palpitating heart poor Wilson +gathered himself up, and searched for his gun, which fortunately had +not been injured, and then commenced to climb the opposite bank, +starting at every twig that snapped under his feet. On reaching the +level ground again he breathed a little more freely, and hurried +forward with more speed than caution. Suddenly he came into violent +contact with a figure, which uttered a loud growl as Wilson reeled +backwards. + +“‘Back, you monster,’ he cried, with a hysterical yell, ‘or I’ll blow +your brains out!’ + +“‘It’s little good _that_ would do ye,’ cried the doctor as he came +forward. ‘Why, you stupid, what did you take me for? You’ve nearly +knocked out my brains as it is,’ and the doctor rubbed his forehead +ruefully. + +“‘Oh, it’s _you,_ doctor!’ said Wilson, feeling as if a ton weight had +been lifted off his heart; ‘I verily thought it was the ghost of the +poor fellow we’re going to disturb. I do think you had better give it +up. Mischief will come of it, you’ll see.’ + +“‘Nonsense,’ cried the doctor; ‘don’t be a goose, but let’s to work at +once. Why, I’ve got half the thing dug up already.’ So saying, he led +the way to the grave, in which there was a large opening. Setting the +lantern down by the side of it, the two seized their spades and began +to dig as if in earnest. + +“The fact is that the doctor was nearly as frightened as Wilson, and he +afterwards confessed to me that it was an immense relief to him when he +heard him fall down the bank of the creek, and knew by the growl he +gave that it was he. + +“In about half-an-hour the doctor’s spade struck upon the coffin lid, +which gave forth a hollow sound. + +“‘Now then, we’re about done with it,’ said he, standing up to wipe +away the perspiration that trickled down his face. ‘Take the axe and +force up the lid, it’s only fixed with common nails, while I—’ He did +not finish the sentence, but drew a large scalping-knife from a sheath +which hung at his belt. + +“Wilson shuddered and obeyed. A good wrench caused the lid to start, +and while he held it partially open the doctor inserted the knife. For +five minutes he continued to twist and work with his arms, muttering +between his teeth, every now and then, that he was a ‘tough subject,’ +while the crackling of bones and other disagreeable sounds struck upon +the horrified ears of his companion. + +“‘All right,’ he exclaimed at last, as he dragged a round object from +the coffin and let down the lid with a bang, at the same time placing +the savage’s head with its ghastly features full in the blaze of the +lantern. + +“‘Now, then, close up,’ said he, jumping out of the hole and shovelling +in the earth. + +“In a few minutes they had filled the grave up and smoothed it down on +the surface, and then, throwing the head into the game-bag, retraced +their steps to the fort. Their nerves were by this time worked up to +such a pitch of excitement, and their minds filled with such a degree +of supernatural horror, that they tripped and stumbled over stumps and +branches innumerable in their double-quick march. Neither would confess +to the other, however, that he was afraid. They even attempted to pass +a few facetious remarks as they hurried along, but it would not do, so +they relapsed into silence till they came to the hollow beside the +powder-magazine. Here the doctor’s foot happening to slip, he suddenly +grasped Wilson by the shoulder to support himself—a movement which, +being unexpected, made his friend leap, as he afterwards expressed it, +nearly out of his skin. This was almost too much for them. For a moment +they looked at each other as well as the darkness would permit, when +all at once a large stone, which the doctor’s slip had overbalanced, +fell down the bank and through the bushes with a loud crash. Nothing +more was wanting. All further effort to disguise their feelings was +dropped. Leaping the rail of the open field in a twinkling, they gave a +simultaneous yell of consternation and fled to the fort like autumn +leaves before the wind, never drawing breath till they were safe within +the pickets.” + +“But what has all this to do with Peterkin?” asked Harry, as the +accountant paused to relight his pipe and toss a fresh log on the fire. + +“Have patience, lad; you shall hear.” + +The accountant stirred the logs with his toe, drew a few whiffs to see +that the pipe was properly ignited, and proceeded. + +“For a day or two after this, the doctor was observed to be often +mysteriously engaged in an outhouse, of which he kept the key. By some +means or other, the skipper, who is always up to mischief, managed to +discover the secret. Watching where the doctor hid the key, he +possessed himself of it one day, and sallied forth, bent on a lark of +some kind or other, but without very well knowing what. Passing the +kitchen, he observed Anderson, the butler, raking the fire out of the +large oven which stands in the backyard. + +“‘Baking again, Anderson?’ said he in passing. ‘You get soon through +with a heavy cargo of bread just now.’ + +“‘Yes, sir; many mouths to feed, sir,’ replied the butler, proceeding +with his work. + +“The skipper sauntered on, and took the track which led to the +boathouse, where he stood for some time in meditation. Casting up his +eyes, he saw Peterkin in the distance, looking as if he didn’t very +well know what to do. + +“A sudden thought struck him. Pulling off his coat, he seized a mallet +and a calking-chisel, and began to belabour the side of a boat as if +his life depended on it. All at once he stopped and stood up, blowing +with the exertion. + +“‘Hollo, Peterkin!’ he shouted, and waved his hand. + +“Peterkin hastened towards him. + +“‘Well, sir’ said he, ‘do you wish to speak to me?’ + +“‘Yes,’ replied the skipper, scratching his head, as if in great +perplexity. ‘I wish you to do me a favour, Peterkin, but I don’t know +very well how to ask you.’ + +“‘Oh, I shall be most happy,’ said poor Butter eagerly, ‘if I can be of +any use to you.’ + +“‘I don’t doubt your willingness,’ replied the other; ‘but then—the +doctor, you see—the fact is, Peterkin, the doctor being called away to +see a sick Indian, has intrusted me with a delicate piece of +business—rather a nasty piece of business, I may say—which I promised +to do for him. You must know that the Surgical Society of London has +written to him, begging, as a great favour, that he would, if possible, +procure them the skull of a native. After much trouble, he has +succeeded in getting one, but is obliged to keep it a great secret, +even from his fellow-clerks, lest it should get wind: for if the +Indians heard of it they would be sure to kill him, and perhaps burn +the fort too. Now I suppose you are aware that it is necessary to boil +an Indian’s head in order to get the flesh clean off the skull?’ + +“‘Yes; I have heard something of that sort from the students at +college, who say that boiling brings flesh more easily away from the +bone. But I don’t know much about it,’ replied Peterkin. + +“‘Well,’ continued the skipper, ‘the doctor, who is fond of +experiments, wishes to try whether _baking_ won’t do better than +_boiling_, and ordered the oven to be heated for that purpose this +morning; but being called suddenly away, as I have said, he begged me +to put the head into it as soon as it was ready. I agreed, quite +forgetting at the time that I had to get this precious boat ready for +sea this very afternoon. Now the oven is prepared, and I dare not leave +my work; indeed, I doubt whether I shall have it quite ready and taut +after all, and there’s the oven cooling; so, if you don’t help me, I’m +a lost man.’ + +“Having said this, the skipper looked as miserable as his jolly visage +would permit, and rubbed his nose. + +“‘Oh, I’ll be happy to do it for you, although it is not an agreeable +job,’ replied Butter. + +“‘That’s right—that’s friendly now!’ exclaimed the skipper, as if +greatly relieved. ‘Give us your flipper, my lad;’ and seizing +Peterkin’s hand, he wrung it affectionately. ‘Now, here is the key of +the outhouse; do it as quickly as you can, and don’t let anyone see +you. It’s in a good cause, you know, but the results might be terrible +if discovered.’ + +“So saying, the skipper fell to hammering the boat again with +surprising vigour till Butter was out of sight, and then resuming his +coat, returned to the house. + +“An hour after this, Anderson went to take his loaves out of the oven; +but he had no sooner taken down the door than a rich odour of cooked +meat greeted his nostrils. Uttering a deep growl, the butler shouted +out ‘Sprat!’ + +“Upon this, a very thin boy, with arms and legs like pipe stems, issued +from the kitchen, and came timidly towards his master. + +“‘Didn’t I tell you, you young blackguard, that the grouse-pie was to +be kept for Sunday? and there you’ve gone and put it to fire to-day.’ + +“‘The grouse-pie!’ said the boy, in amazement. + +“‘Yes, the grouse-pie,’ retorted the indignant butler; and seizing the +urchin by the neck, he held his head down to the mouth of the oven. + +“‘Smell _that_, you villain! What did you mean by it, eh?’ + +“‘Oh, murder!’ shouted the boy, as with a violent effort he freed +himself, and ran shrieking into the house. “‘Murder!’ repeated Anderson +in astonishment, while he stooped to look into the oven, where the +first thing that met his gaze was a human head, whose ghastly visage +and staring eyeballs worked and moved about under the influence of the +heat as if it were alive. + +“With a yell that rung through the whole fort, the horrified butler +rushed through the kitchen and out at the front door, where, as +ill-luck would have it, Mr. Rogan happened to be standing at the +moment. Pitching head first into the small of the old gentleman’s back, +he threw him off the platform and fell into his arms. Starting up in a +moment, the governor dealt Anderson a cuff that sent him reeling +towards the kitchen door again, on the steps of which he sat down, and +began to sing out, ‘Oh, murder, murder! the oven, the oven!’ and not +another word, bad, good, or indifferent, could be got out of him for +the next half-hour, as he swayed himself to and fro and wrung his +hands. + +“To make a long story short, Mr. Rogan went himself to the oven, and +fished out the head, along with the loaves, which were, of course, all +spoiled.” + +“And what was the result?” enquired Harry. + +“Oh, there was a long investigation, and the skipper got a blowing-up, +and the doctor a warning to let Indians’ skulls lie at peace in their +graves for the future, and poor Butter was sent to M’Kenzie’s River as +a punishment, for old Rogan could never be brought to believe that he +hadn’t been a willing tool in the skipper’s hands; and Anderson lost +his batch of bread and his oven, for it had to be pulled down and a new +one built.” + +“Humph! and I’ve no doubt the governor read you a pretty stiff lecture +on practical joking.” + +“He did,” replied the accountant, laying aside his pipe and drawing the +green blanket over him, while Harry piled several large logs on the +fire. + +“Good-night,” said the accountant. + +“Good-night,” replied his companions; and in a few minutes more they +were sound asleep in their snowy camp, while the huge fire continued, +during the greater part of the night, to cast its light on their +slumbering forms. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +Ptarmigan-hunting—Hamilton’s shooting powers severely tested—A +snowstorm. + + +At about four o’clock on the following morning, the sleepers were +awakened by the cold, which had become very intense. The fire had +burned down to a few embers, which merely emitted enough light to make +darkness visible. Harry being the most active of the party, was the +first to bestir himself. Raising himself on his elbow, while his teeth +chattered and his limbs trembled with cold, he cast a woebegone and +excessively sleepy glance towards the place where the fire had been; +then he scratched his head slowly; then he stared at the fire again; +then he languidly glanced at Hamilton’s sleeping visage, and then he +yawned. The accountant observed all this; for although he appeared to +be buried in the depths of slumber, he was wide awake in reality, and +moreover, intensely cold. The accountant, however, was sly—deep, as he +would have said himself—and knew that Harry’s active habits would +induce him to rise, on awaking, and rekindle the fire,—an event which +the accountant earnestly desired to see accomplished, but which he as +earnestly resolved should not be performed by _him_. Indeed, it was +with this end in view that he had given vent to the terrific snore +which had aroused his young companion a little sooner than would have +otherwise been the case. + +“My eye,” exclaimed Harry, in an undertone, “how precious cold it is!” + +His eye making no reply to this remark, he arose, and going down on his +hands and knees, began to coax the charcoal into a flame. By dint of +severe blowing, he soon succeeded, and heaping on a quantity of small +twigs, the fitful flame sprang up into a steady blaze. He then threw +several heavy logs on the fire, and in a very short space of time +restored it almost to its original vigour. + +“What an abominable row you are kicking up!” growled the accountant; +“why, you would waken the seven sleepers. Oh! mending the fire,” he +added, in an altered tone: “ah! I’ll excuse you, my boy, since that’s +what you’re at.” + +The accountant hereupon got up, along with Hamilton, who was now also +awake, and the three spread their hands over the bright fire, and +revolved their bodies before it, until they imbibed a satisfactory +amount of heat. They were much too sleepy to converse, however, and +contented themselves with a very brief enquiry as to the state of +Hamilton’s heels, which elicited the sleepy reply, “They feel quite +well, thank you.” In a short time, having become agreeably warm, they +gave a simultaneous yawn, and lying down again, they fell into a sleep +from which they did not awaken until the red winter sun shot its early +rays over the arctic scenery. + +Once more Harry sprang up, and let his hand fall heavily on Hamilton’s +shoulder. Thus rudely assailed, that youth also sprang up, giving a +shout, at the same time, that brought the accountant to his feet in an +instant; and so, as if by an electric spark, the sleepers were +simultaneously roused into a state of wide-awake activity. + +“How excessively hungry I feel! isn’t it strange?” said Hamilton, as he +assisted in rekindling the fire, while the accountant filled his pipe, +and Harry stuffed the tea-kettle full of snow. + +“Strange!” cried Harry, as he placed the kettle on the fire—“strange to +be hungry after a five miles’ walk and a night in the snow? I would +rather say it was strange if you were _not_ hungry. Throw on that +billet, like a good fellow, and spit those grouse, while I cut some +pemmican and prepare the tea.” + +“How are the heels now, Hamilton?” asked the accountant, who divided +his attention between his pipe and his snow-shoes, the lines of which +required to be readjusted. + +“They appear to be as well as if nothing had happened to them,” replied +Hamilton: “I’ve been looking at them, and there is no mark whatever. +They do not even feel tender.” + +“Lucky for you, old boy, that they were taken in time, else you’d had +another story to tell.” + +“Do you mean to say that people’s heels really freeze and fall off?” +inquired the other, with a look of incredulity. + +“Soft, very soft and green,” murmured Harry, in a low voice, while he +continued his work of adding fresh snow to the kettle as the process of +melting reduced its bulk. + +“I mean to say,” replied the accountant, tapping the ashes out of his +pipe, “that not only heels, but hands, feet, noses, and ears, +frequently freeze, and often fall off in this country, as you will find +by sad experience if you don’t look after yourself a little better than +you have done hitherto.” + +One of the evil effects of the perpetual jesting that prevailed at York +Fort was, that “soft” (in other words, straightforward, unsuspecting) +youths had to undergo a long process of learning-by-experience: first, +_believing_ everything, and then _doubting_ everything, ere they +arrived at that degree of sophistication which enabled them to +distinguish between truth and falsehood. + +Having reached the _doubting_ period in his training, Hamilton looked +down and said nothing, at least with his mouth, though his eyes +evidently remarked, “I don’t believe you.” In future years, however, +the evidence of these same eyes convinced him that what the accountant +said upon this occasion was but too true. + +Breakfast was a repetition of the supper of the previous evening. +During its discussion they planned proceedings for the day. + +“My notion is,” said the accountant, interrupting the flow of words +ever and anon to chew the morsel with which his mouth was filled—“my +notion is, that as it’s a fine clear day we should travel five miles +through the country parallel with North River. I know the ground, and +can guide you easily to the spots where there are lots of willows, and +therefore plenty of ptarmigan, seeing that they feed on willow tops; +and the snow that fell last night will help us a little.” + +“How will the snow help us?” inquired Hamilton. + +“By covering up all the old tracks, to be sure, and showing only the +new ones.” + +“Well, captain,” said Harry, as he raised a can of tea to his lips, and +nodded to Hamilton as if drinking his health, “go on with your +proposals for the day. Five miles up the river to begin with, then—” + +“Then we’ll pull up,” continued the accountant; “make a fire, rest a +bit, and eat a mouthful of pemmican; after which we’ll strike across +country for the southern woodcutters’ track, and so home.” + +“And how much will that be?” + +“About fifteen miles.” + +“Ha!” exclaimed Harry; “pass the kettle, please. Thanks.—Do you think +you’re up to that, Hammy?” + +“I will try what I can do,” replied Hamilton. “If the snow-shoes don’t +cause me to fall often, I think I shall stand the fatigue very well.” + +“That’s right,” said the accountant; “‘faint heart,’ etc., you know. If +you go on as you’ve begun, you’ll be chosen to head the next expedition +to the north pole.” + +“Well,” replied Hamilton, good-humouredly, “pray head the present +expedition, and let us be gone.” + +“Right!” ejaculated the accountant, rising. “I’ll just put my odds and +ends out of the reach of the foxes, and then we shall be off.” + +In a few minutes everything was placed in security, guns loaded, +snow-shoes put on, and the winter camp deserted. At first the walking +was fatiguing, and poor Hamilton more than once took a sudden and +eccentric plunge; but after getting beyond the wooded country, they +found the snow much more compact, and their march, therefore, much more +agreeable. On coming to the place where it was probable that they might +fall in with ptarmigan, Hamilton became rather excited, and apt to +imagine that little lumps of snow which hung upon the bushes here and +there were birds. + +“There now,” he cried, in an energetic and slightly positive tone, as +another of these masses of snow suddenly met his eager eye—“that’s one, +I’m _quite_ sure.” + +The accountant and Harry both stopped short on hearing this, and looked +in the direction indicated. + +“Fire away, then, Hammy,” said the former, endeavouring to suppress a +smile. + +“But do you think it _really_ is one?” asked Hamilton, anxiously. + +“Well, I don’t _see_ it exactly, but then, you know, I’m near-sighted.” + +“Don’t give him a chance of escape,” cried Harry, seeing that his +friend was undecided. “If you really do see a bird, you’d better shoot +it, for they’ve got a strong propensity to take wing when disturbed.” + +Thus admonished Hamilton raised his gun and took aim. Suddenly he +lowered his piece again, and looking round at Harry, said in a low +whisper,— + +“Oh, I should like _so_ much to shoot it while flying! Would it not be +better to set it up first?” + +“By no means,” answered the accountant. “‘A bird in the hand,’ etc. +Take him as you find him—look sharp; he’ll be off in a second.” + +Again the gun was pointed, and, after some difficulty in taking aim, +fired. + +“Ah, what a pity you’ve missed him!” shouted Harry, + +“But see, he’s not off yet; how tame he is, to be sure! Give him the +other barrel, Hammy.” + +This piece of advice proved to be unnecessary. In his anxiety to get +the bird, Hamilton had cocked both barrels, and while gazing, half in +disappointment, half in surprise, at the supposed bird, his finger +unintentionally pressed the second trigger. In a moment the piece +exploded. Being accidentally aimed in the right direction, it blew the +lump of snow to atoms, and at the same time hitting its owner on the +chest with the butt, knocked him over flat upon his back. + +“What a gun it is, to be sure!” said Harry, with a roguish laugh, as he +assisted the discomforted sportsman to rise; “it knocks over game with +butt and muzzle at once.” + +“Quite a rare instance of one butt knocking another down,” added the +accountant. + +At this moment a large flock of ptarmigan, startled by the double +report, rose with a loud whirring noise about a hundred yards in +advance, and after flying a short distance alighted. + +“There’s real game at last, though,” cried the accountant, as he +hurried after the birds, followed closely by his young friends. + +They soon reached the spot where the flock had alighted, and after +following up the tracks for a few yards further, set them up again. As +the birds rose, the accountant fired and brought down two; Harry shot +one and missed another; Hamilton being so nervously interested in the +success of his comrades that he forgot to fire at all. + +“How stupid of me!” he exclaimed, while the others loaded their guns. + +“Never mind; better luck next time,” said Harry, as they resumed their +walk. “I saw the flock settle down about half-a-mile in advance of us; +so step out.” + +Another short walk brought the sportsmen again within range. + +“Go to the front, Hammy,” said the accountant, “and take the first shot +this time.” + +Hamilton obeyed. He had scarcely made ten steps in advance, when a +single bird, that seemed to have been separated from the others, ran +suddenly out from under a bush, and stood stock-still, at a distance of +a few yards, with its neck stretched out and its black eyes wide open, +as if in astonishment. + +“Now then, you can’t miss _that_.” + +Hamilton was quite taken aback by the suddenness of this necessity for +instantaneous action. Instead, therefore, of taking aim leisurely +(seeing that he had abundant time to do so), he flew entirely to the +opposite extreme, took no aim at all, and fired off both barrels at +once, without putting the gun to his shoulder. The result of this was +that the affrighted bird flew away unharmed, while Harry and the +accountant burst spontaneously into fits of laughter. + +“How very provoking!” said the poor youth, with a dejected look. + +“Never mind—never say die—try again,” said the accountant, on +recovering his gravity. Having reloaded, they continued the pursuit. + +“Dear me!” exclaimed Harry, suddenly, “here are three dead birds.—I +verily believe, Hamilton, that you have killed them all at one shot by +accident.” + +“Can it be possible?” exclaimed his friend, as with a look of amazement +he regarded the birds. + +There was no doubt about the fact. There they lay, plump and still +warm, with one or two drops of bright red blood upon their white +plumage. Ptarmigan are almost pure white, so that it requires a +practised eye to detect them, even at a distance of a few yards; and it +would be almost impossible to hunt them without dogs, but for the +tell-tale snow, in which their tracks are distinctly marked, enabling +the sportsman to follow them up with unerring certainty. When Hamilton +made his bad shot, neither he nor his companions observed a group of +ptarmigan not more than fifty yards before them, their attention being +riveted at the time on the solitary bird; and the gun happening to be +directed towards them when it was fired, three were instantly and +unwittingly placed _hors de combat_, while the others ran away. This +the survivors frequently do when very tame, instead of taking wing. +Thus it was that Hamilton, to his immense delight, made such a +successful shot without being aware of it. + +Having bagged their game, the party proceeded on their way. Several +large flocks of birds were raised, and the game-bags nearly filled, +before reaching the spot where they intended to turn and bend their +steps homewards. This induced them to give up the idea of going +further; and it was fortunate they came to this resolution, for a storm +was brewing, which in the eagerness of pursuit after game they had not +noticed. Dark masses of leaden-coloured clouds were gathering in the +sky overhead, and faint sighs of wind came, ever and anon, in fitful +gusts from the north-west. + +Hurrying forward as quickly as possible, they now pursued their course +in a direction which would enable them to cross the woodcutters’ track. +This they soon reached, and finding it pretty well beaten, were enabled +to make more rapid progress. Fortunately the wind was blowing on their +backs, otherwise they would have had to contend not only with its +violence, but also with the snow-drift, which now whirled in bitter +fury among the trees, or scoured like driving clouds over the plain. +Under this aspect, the flat country over which they travelled seemed +the perfection of bleak desolation. Their way, however, did not lie in +a direct line. The track was somewhat tortuous, and gradually edged +towards the north, until the wind blew nearly in their teeth. At this +point, too, they came to a stretch of open ground which they had +crossed at a point some miles further to the northward in their night +march. Here the storm raged in all its fury, and as they looked out +upon the plain, before quitting the shelter of the wood, they paused to +tighten their belts and readjust their snow-shoe lines. The gale was so +violent that the whole plain seemed tossed about like billows of the +sea, as the drift rose and fell, curled, eddied, and dashed along, so +that it was impossible to see more than half-a-dozen yards in advance. + +“Heaven preserve us from ever being caught in an exposed place on such +a night as this!” said the accountant, as he surveyed the prospect +before him. “Luckily the open country here is not more than a quarter +of a mile broad, and even that little bit will try our wind somewhat.” + +Hamilton and Harry seemed by their looks to say, “We could easily face +even a stiffer breeze than that, if need be.” + +“What should we do,” inquired the former, “if the plain were five or +six miles broad?” + +“Do? why, we should have to camp in the woods till it blew over, that’s +all,” replied the accountant; “but seeing that we are not reduced to +such a necessity just now, and that the day is drawing to a close, let +us face it at once. I’ll lead the way, and see that you follow close at +my heels. Don’t lose sight of me for a moment, and if you do by chance, +give a shout; d’ye hear?” + +The two lads replied in the affirmative, and then bracing themselves up +as if for a great effort, stepped vigorously out upon the plain, and +were instantly swallowed up in clouds of snow. For half-an-hour or more +they battled slowly against the howling storm, pressing forward for +some minutes with heads down, as if _boring_ through it, then turning +their backs to the blast for a few seconds’ relief, but always keeping +as close to each other as possible. At length the woods were gained; on +entering which it was discovered that Hamilton was missing. + +“Hollo! where’s Hamilton?” exclaimed Harry; “I saw him beside me not +five minutes ago.” The accountant gave a loud shout, but there was no +reply. Indeed, nothing short of his own stentorian voice could have +been heard at all amid the storm. + +“There’s nothing for it,” said Harry, “but to search at once, else +he’ll wander about and get lost.” Saying this, he began to retrace his +steps, just as a brief lull in the gale took place. + +“Hollo! don’t you hear a cry, Harry?” + +At this moment there was another lull; the drift fell, and for an +instant cleared away, revealing the bewildered Hamilton, not twenty +yards off, standing, like a pillar of snow, in mute despair. + +Profiting by the glimpse, Harry rushed forward, caught him by the arm, +and led him into the partial shelter of the forest. + +Nothing further befell them after this. Their route lay in shelter all +the way to the fort. Poor Hamilton, it is true, took one or two of his +occasional plunges by the way, but without any serious result—not even +to the extent of stuffing his nose, ears, neck, mittens, pockets, +gun-barrels, and everything else with snow, because, these being quite +full and hard packed already, there was no room left for the addition +of another particle. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +The winter packet—Harry hears from old friends, and wishes that he was +with them. + + +Letters from home! What a burst of sudden emotion—what a riot of +conflicting feelings of dread and joy, expectation and anxiety—what a +flood of old memories—what stirring up of almost forgotten associations +these three words create in the hearts of those who dwell in distant +regions of this earth, far, far away from kith and kin, from friends +and acquaintances, from the much-loved scenes of childhood, and from +_home_! Letters from home! How gratefully the sound falls upon ears +that have been long unaccustomed to sounds and things connected with +home, and so long accustomed to wild, savage sounds, that these have at +length lost their novelty, and become everyday and commonplace, while +the first have gradually grown strange and unwonted. For many long +months home and all connected with it have become a dream of other +days, and savage-land a present reality. The mind has by degrees become +absorbed by surrounding objects—objects so utterly unassociated with or +unsuggestive of any other land, that it involuntarily ceases to think +of the scenes of childhood with the same feelings that it once did. As +time rolls on, home assumes a misty, undefined character, as if it were +not only distant in reality, but were also slowly retreating further +and further away—growing gradually faint and dream-like, though not +less dear, to the mental view. + +“Letters from home!” shouted Mr. Wilson, and the doctor, and the +skipper, simultaneously, as the sportsmen, after dashing through the +wild storm, at last reached the fort, and stumbled tumultuously into +Bachelors’ Hall. + +“What!—Where!—How!—You don’t mean it!” they exclaimed, coming to a +sudden stand, like three pillars of snow-clad astonishment. + +“Ay,” replied the doctor, who affected to be quite cool upon all +occasions, and rather cooler than usual if the occasion was more than +ordinarily exciting—“ay, we _do_ mean it. Old Rogan has got the packet, +and is even now disembowelling it.” + +“More than that,” interrupted the skipper, who sat smoking as usual by +the stove, with his hands in his breeches pockets—“more than that, I +saw him dissecting into the very marrow of the thing; so if we don’t +storm the old admiral in his cabin, he’ll go to sleep over these prosy +yarns that the governor-in-chief writes to him, and we’ll have to +whistle for our letters till midnight.” + +The skipper’s remark was interrupted by the opening of the outer door +and the entrance of the butler. “Mr. Rogan wishes to see you, sir,” +said that worthy to the accountant. + +“I’ll be with him in a minute,” he replied, as he threw off his capote +and proceeded to unwind himself as quickly as his multitudinous haps +would permit. + +By this time Harry Somerville and Hamilton were busily occupied in a +similar manner, while a running fire of question and answer, jesting +remark and bantering reply, was kept up between the young men, from +their various apartments and the hall. The doctor was cool, as usual, +and impudent. He had a habit of walking up and down while he smoked, +and was thus enabled to look in upon the inmates of the several +sleeping-rooms, and make his remarks in a quiet, sarcastic manner, the +galling effect of which was heightened by his habit of pausing at the +end of every two or three words, to emit a few puffs of smoke. Having +exhausted a good deal of small talk in this way, and having, moreover, +finished his pipe, the doctor went to the stove to refill and relight. + +“What a deal of trouble you do take to make yourself comfortable!” said +he to the skipper, who sat with his chair tilted on its hind legs, and +a pillow at his back. + +“No harm in that, doctor,” replied the skipper, with a smile. + +“No harm, certainly, but it looks uncommonly lazy-like.” + +“What does?” + +“Why, putting a pillow at your back, to be sure.” + +The doctor was a full-fleshed, muscular man, and owing to this fact it +mattered little to him whether his chair happened to be an easy one or +not. As the skipper sometimes remarked, he carried padding always about +with him; he was, therefore, a little apt to sneer at the attempts of +his brethren to render the ill-shaped, wooden-bottomed chairs, with +which the hall was ornamented, bearable. + +“Well, doctor,” said the skipper, “I cannot see how you make me out +lazy. Surely it is not an evidence of laziness, my endeavouring to +render these instruments of torture less tormenting? Seeking to be +comfortable, if it does not inconvenience anyone else, is not laziness. +Why, what _is_ comfort?” The skipper began to wax philosophical at this +point, and took the pipe from his mouth as he gravely propounded the +momentous question. “What _is_ comfort? If I go out to camp in the +woods, and after turning in find a sharp stump sticking into my ribs on +one side, and a pine root driving in the small of my back on the other +side, is _that_ comfort? Certainly not. And if I get up, seize a +hatchet, level the stump, cut away the root, and spread pine brush over +the place, am I to be called lazy for doing so? Or if I sit down on a +chair, and on trying to lean back to rest myself find that the stupid +lubber who made it has so constructed it that four small hard points +alone touch my person—two being at the hip-joints and two at the +shoulder-blades; and if to relieve such physical agony I jump up and +clap a pillow at my back, am I to be called lazy for doing _that_?” + +“What a glorious entry that would make in the log!” said the doctor, in +a low tone, soliloquizingly, as if he made the remark merely for his +own satisfaction, while he tapped the ashes out of his pipe. + +The skipper looked as if he meditated a sharp reply; but his +intentions, whatever they might have been, were interrupted by the +opening of the door, and the entrance of the accountant, bearing under +his arm a packet of letters. + +A general rush was made upon him, and in a few minutes a dead silence +reigned in the hall, broken only at intervals by an exclamation of +surprise or pathos, as the inmates, in the retirement of their separate +apartments, perused letters from friends in the interior of the country +and friends at home: letters that were old—some of them bearing dates +many months back—and travel-stained, but new and fresh and cheering, +nevertheless, to their owners, as the clear bright sun in winter or the +verdant leaves in spring. + +Harry Somerville’s letters were numerous and long. He had several from +friends in Red River, besides one or two from other parts of the Indian +country, and one—it was very thick and heavy—that bore the post-marks +of Britain. It was late that night ere the last candle was extinguished +in the hall, and it was late too before Harry Somerville ceased to +peruse and re-peruse the long letter from home, and found time or +inclination to devote to his other correspondents. Among the rest was a +letter from his old friend and companion, Charley Kennedy, which ran as +follows:— + +MY DEAR HARRY,—It really seems more than an age since I saw you. Your +last epistle, written in the perturbation of mind consequent upon being +doomed to spend another winter at York Fort, reached me only a few days +ago, and filled me with pleasant recollections of other days. Oh! man, +how much I wish that you were with me in this beautiful country! You +are aware that I have been what they call “roughing it” since you and I +parted on the shores of Lake Winnipeg; but, my dear fellow, the idea +that most people have of what that phrase means is a very erroneous one +indeed. “Roughing it,” I certainly have been, inasmuch as I have been +living on rough fare, associating with rough men, and sleeping on rough +beds under the starry sky; but I assure you that all this is not half +so rough upon the constitution as what they call leading an _easy +life_, which is simply a life that makes a poor fellow stagnate, body +and spirit, till the one comes to be unable to digest its food, and the +other incompetent to jump at so much as half an idea. Anything but an +easy life, to my mind. Ah! there’s nothing like roughing it, Harry, my +boy. Why, I am thriving on it—growing like a young walrus, eating like +a Canadian voyageur, and sleeping like a top! This is a splendid +country for sport, and as our _bourgeois_[4] has taken it into his head +that I am a good hand at making friends with the Indians, he has sent +me out on several expeditions, and afforded me some famous +opportunities of seeing life among the red-skins. There is a talk just +now of establishing a new outpost in this district, so if I succeed in +persuading the governor to let me accompany the party, I shall have +something interesting to write about in my next letter. By the way, I +wrote to you a month ago, by two Indians who said they were going to +the missionary station at Norway House. Did you ever get it? There is a +hunter here just now who goes by the name of Jacques Caradoc. He is a +first-rater—can do anything, in a wild way, that lies within the power +of mortal man, and is an inexhaustible anecdote-teller, in a quiet way. +He and I have been out buffalo-hunting two or three times, and it would +have done your heart good, Harry, my dear boy, to have seen us scouring +over the prairie together on two big-boned Indian horses—regular +trained buffalo-runners, that didn’t need the spur to urge, nor the +rein to guide them, when once they caught sight of the black cattle, +and kept a sharp look-out for badger-holes, just as if they had been +reasonable creatures. The first time I went out I had several rather +ugly falls, owing to my inexperience. The fact is, that if a man has +never run buffaloes before, he’s sure to get one or two upsets, no +matter how good a horseman he may be. And that monster Jacques, +although he’s the best fellow I ever met with for a hunting companion, +always took occasion to grin at my mishaps, and gravely to read me a +lecture to the effect that they were all owing to my own clumsiness or +stupidity; which, you will acknowledge, was not calculated to restore +my equanimity. + + [4] The gentleman in charge of an establishment is always designated + the bourgeois. + + +The very first run we had cost me the entire skin of my nose, and +converted that feature into a superb Roman for the next three weeks. It +happened thus. Jacques and I were riding over the prairies in search of +buffaloes. The place was interspersed with sundry knolls covered with +trees, slips and belts of woodland, with ponds scattered among them, +and open sweeps of the plain here and there; altogether a delightful +country to ride through. It was a clear early morning, so that our +horses were fresh and full of spirit. They knew, as well as we +ourselves did, what we were out for, and it was no easy matter to +restrain them. The one I rode was a great long-legged beast, as like as +possible to that abominable kangaroo that nearly killed me at Red +River; as for Jacques, he was mounted on a first-rate charger. I don’t +know how it is, but somehow or other everything about Jacques, or +belonging to him, or in the remotest degree connected with him, is +always first-rate! He generally owns a first-rate horse, and if he +happens by any unlucky chance to be compelled to mount a bad one, it +immediately becomes another animal. He seems to infuse some of his own +wonderful spirit into it! Well, as Jacques and I curvetted along, +skirting the low bushes at the edge of a wood, out burst a whole herd +of buffaloes. Bang went Jacques’s gun, almost before I had winked to +make sure that I saw rightly, and down fell the fattest of them all, +while the rest tossed up their tails, heels, and heads in one grand +whirl of indignant amazement, and scoured away like the wind. In a +moment our horses were at full stretch after them, on their _own_ +account entirely, and without any reference to _us_. When I recovered +my self-possession a little, I threw forward my gun and fired; but +owing to my endeavouring to hold the reins at the same time, I nearly +blew off one of my horse’s ears, and only knocked up the dust about six +yards ahead of us! Of course Jacques could not let this pass unnoticed. +He was sitting quietly loading his gun, as cool as a cucumber, while +his horse was dashing forward at full stretch, with the reins hanging +loosely on his neck. + +“Ah, Mister Charles,” said he, with the least possible grin on his +leathern visage, “that was not well done. You should never hold the +reins when you fire, nor try to put the gun to your shoulder. It a’n’t +needful. The beast’ll look arter itself, if it’s a riglar +buffalo-runner; any ways holdin’ the reins is of no manner of use. I +once know’d a gentleman that came out here to see the buffalo-huntin’. +He was a good enough shot in his way, an’ a first-rate rider. But he +was full o’ queer notions: he _would_ load his gun with the ramrod in +the riglar way, instead o’ doin’ as we do, tumblin’ in a drop powder, +spittin’ a ball out your mouth down the muzzle, and hittin’ the stock +on the pommel of the saddle to send it home. And he had them miserable +things—the _somethin’_ ’cussion-caps, and used to fiddle away with them +while we were knockin’ over the cattle in all directions. Moreover, he +had a notion that it was altogether wrong to let go his reins even for +a moment, and so, what between the ramrod and the ’cussion-caps and the +reins, he was worse than the greenest clerk that ever came to the +country. He gave it up in despair at last, after lamin’ two horses, and +finished off by runnin’ after a big bull, that turned on him all of a +suddent, crammed its head and horns into the side of his horse, and +sent the poor fellow head over heels on the green grass. He wasn’t much +the worse for it, but his fine double-barrelled gun was twisted into a +shape that would almost have puzzled an Injin to tell what it was.” +Well, Harry, all the time that Jacques was telling me this we were +gaining on the buffaloes, and at last we got quite close to them, and +as luck would have it, the very thing that happened to the amateur +sportsman happened to me. I went madly after a big bull in spite of +Jacques’s remonstrances, and just as I got alongside of him up went his +tail (a sure sign that his anger was roused), and round he came, head +to the front, stiff as a rock; my poor charger’s chest went right +between his horns, and, as a matter of course, I continued the race +upon _nothing_, head first, for a distance of about thirty yards, and +brought up on the bridge of my nose. My poor dear father used to say I +was a bull-headed rascal, and, upon my word, I believe he was more +literally correct than he imagined; for although I fell with a fearful +crash, head first, on the hard plain, I rose up immediately, and in a +few minutes was able to resume the chase again. My horse was equally +fortunate, for although thus brought to a sudden stand while at full +gallop, he wheeled about, gave a contemptuous flourish with his heels, +and cantered after Jacques, who soon caught him again. My head bothered +me a good deal for some time after this accident, and swelled up till +my eyes became almost undistinguishable; but a few weeks put me all +right again. And who do you think this man Jacques is? You’d never +guess. He’s the trapper whom Redfeather told us of long ago, and whose +wife was killed by the Indians. He and Redfeather have met, and are +very fond of each other. How often in the midst of these wild +excursions have my thoughts wandered to you, Harry! The fellows I meet +with here are all kind-hearted, merry companions, but none like +yourself. I sometimes say to Jacques, when we become communicative to +each other beside the camp-fire, that my earthly felicity would be +perfect if I had Harry Somerville here; and then I think of Kate, my +sweet, loving sister Kate, and feel that, even although I had you with +me, there would still be something wanting to make things perfect. +Talking of Kate, by the way, I have received a letter from her, the +first sheet of which, as it speaks of mutual Red River friends, I +herewith enclose. Pray keep it safe, and return per first opportunity. +We’ve loads of furs here and plenty of deerstalking, not to mention +galloping on horseback on the plains in summer and dog-sledging in the +winter. Alas! my poor friend, I fear that it is rather selfish in me to +write so feelingly about my agreeable circumstances, when I know you +are slowly dragging out your existence at that melancholy place York +Fort; but believe me, I sympathize with you, and I hope earnestly that +you will soon be appointed to more genial scenes. I have much, very +much, to tell you yet, but am compelled to reserve it for a future +epistle, as the packet which is to convey this is on the point of being +closed. + +Adieu, my dear Harry, and wherever you may happen to pitch your tent, +always bear in kindly remembrance your old friend, + +CHARLES KENNEDY. + + +The letter was finished, but Harry did not cease to hold intercourse +with his friend. With his head resting on his two hands, and his elbows +on the table, he sat long, silently gazing on the signature, while his +mind revelled in the past, the present, and the future. He bounded over +the wilderness that lay between him and the beautiful plains of the +Saskatchewan. He seized Charley round the neck, and hugged and wrestled +with him as in days of yore. He mounted an imaginary charger, and swept +across the plains along with him; listened to anecdotes innumerable +from Jacques, attacked thousands of buffaloes, singled out scores of +wild bulls, pitched over horses’ heads and alighted precisely on the +bridge of his nose, always in close proximity to his old friend. +Gradually his mind returned to its prison-house, and his eye fell on +Kate’s letter, which he picked up and began to read. It ran thus:— + +MY DEAR, DEAR, DARLING CHARLEY,—I cannot tell you how much my heart has +yearned to see you, or hear from you, for many long, long months past. +Your last delightful letter, which I treasure up as the most precious +object I possess, has indeed explained to me how utterly impossible it +was to have written a day sooner than you did; but that does not +comfort me a bit, or make those weary packets more rapid and frequent +in their movements, or the time that passes between the periods of +hearing from you less dreary and anxious. God bless and protect you, my +darling, in the midst of all the dangers that surround you. But I did +not intend to begin this letter by murmuring, so pray forgive me, and I +shall try to atone for it by giving you a minute account of everybody +here about whom you are interested. Our beloved father and mother, I am +thankful to say, are quite well. Papa has taken more than ever to +smoking since you went away. He is seldom out of the summer-house in +the garden now, where I very frequently go, and spend hours together in +reading to and talking with him. He very often speaks of you, and I am +certain that he misses you far more than we expected, although I think +he cannot miss you nearly so much as I do. For some weeks past, indeed +ever since we got your last letter, papa was engaged all the forenoon +in some mysterious work, for he used to lock himself up in the +summer-house—a thing he never did before. One day I went there at my +usual time and instead of having to wait till he should unlock the +door, I found it already open, and entered the room, which was so full +of smoke that I could hardly see. I found papa writing at a small +table, and the moment he heard my footstep he jumped up with a fierce +frown, and shouted, “Who’s there?” in that terrible voice that he used +to speak in long ago when angry with his men, but which he has almost +quite given up for some time past. He never speaks to me, as you know +very well, but in the kindest tones, so you may imagine what a dreadful +fright I got for a moment; but it was only for a moment, because the +instant he saw that it was me his dear face changed, and he folded me +in his arms, saying, “Ah, Kate, forgive me, my darling! I did not know +it was you, and I thought I had locked the door, and was angry at being +so unceremoniously interrupted.” He then told me he was just finishing +a letter of advice to you, and going up to the table, pushed the papers +hurriedly into a drawer. As he did so, I guessed what had been his +mysterious occupation, for he seemed to have covered _quires_ of paper +with the closest writing. Ah, Charley, you’re a lucky fellow to be able +to extort such long letters from our dear father. You know how +difficult he finds it to write even the shortest note, and you remember +his old favourite expression, “I would rather skin a wild buffalo bull +alive than write a long letter.” He deserves long ones in return, +Charley; but I need not urge you on that score—you are an excellent +correspondent. Mamma is able to go out every day now for a drive in the +prairie. She was confined to the house for nearly three weeks last +month, with some sort of illness that the doctor did not seem to +understand, and at one time I was much frightened, and very, very +anxious about her, she became so weak. It would have made your heart +glad to have seen the tender way in which papa nursed her through the +illness. I had fancied that he was the very last man in the world to +make a sick-nurse, so bold and quick in his movements, and with such a +loud, gruff voice—for it _is_ gruff, although very sweet at the same +time. But the moment he began to tend mamma he spoke more softly even +than dear Mr. Addison does, and he began to walk about the house on +tiptoe, and persevered so long in this latter that all his moccasins +began to be worn out at the toes, while the heels remained quite +strong. I begged of him often not to take so much trouble, as _I_ was +naturally the proper nurse for mamma; but he wouldn’t hear of it, and +insisted on carrying breakfast, dinner, and tea to her, besides giving +her all her medicine. He was for ever making mistakes, however, much to +his own sorrow, the darling man; and I had to watch him pretty closely, +for more than once he has been on the point of giving mamma a glass of +laudanum in mistake for a glass of port wine. I was a good deal +frightened for him at first, as, before he became accustomed to the +work, he tumbled over the chairs and tripped on the carpets while +carrying trays with dinners and breakfasts, till I thought he would +really injure himself at last, and then he was so terribly angry with +himself at making such a noise and breaking the dishes—I think he has +broken nearly an entire dinner and tea set of crockery. Poor George, +the cook, has suffered most from these mishaps—for you know that dear +papa cannot get angry without letting a _little_ of it out upon +somebody; and whenever he broke a dish or let a tray fall, he used to +rush into the kitchen, shake his fist in George’s face, and ask him, in +a fierce voice, what he meant by it. But he always got better in a few +seconds, and finished off by telling him never to mind, that he was a +good servant on the whole, and he wouldn’t say any more about it just +now, but he had better look sharp out and not do it again. I must say, +in praise of George, that on such occasions he looked very sorry +indeed, and said he hoped that he would always do his best to give him +satisfaction. This was only proper in him, for he ought to be very +thankful that our father restrains his anger so much; for you know he +was rather violent _once_, and you’ve no idea, Charley, how great a +restraint he now lays on himself. He seems to me quite like a lamb, and +I am beginning to feel somehow as if we had been mistaken, and that he +never was a passionate man at all. I think it is partly owing to dear +Mr. Addison, who visits us very frequently now, and papa and he are +often shut up together for many hours in the smoking-house. I was sure +that papa would soon come to like him, for his religion is so free from +everything like severity or affected solemnity. The cook, and Rosa, and +my dog that you named Twist, are all quite well. The last has grown +into a very large and beautiful animal, something like the stag-hound +in the picture-book we used to study together long ago. He is +exceedingly fond of me, and I feel him to be quite a protector. The +cocks and hens, the cow and the old mare, are also in perfect health; +so now, having told you a good deal about ourselves, I will give you a +short account of the doings in the colony. + +First of all, your old friend Mr. Kipples is still alive and well, and +so are all our old companions in the school. One or two of the latter +have left, and young Naysmith has joined the Company’s service. Betty +Peters comes very often to see us, and she always asks for you with +great earnestness. I think you have stolen the old woman’s heart, +Charley, for she speaks of you with great affection. Old Mr. Seaforth +is still as vigorous as ever, dashing about the settlement on a +high-mettled steed, just as if he were one of the youngest men in the +colony. He nearly poisoned himself, poor man, a month ago, by taking a +dose of some kind of medicine by mistake. I did not hear what it was, +but I am told that the treatment was rather severe. Fortunately the +doctor happened to be at home when he was sent for, else our old friend +would, I fear, have died. As it was, the doctor cured him with great +difficulty. He first gave him an emetic, then put mustard blisters to +the soles of his feet, and afterwards lifted him into one of his own +carts, without springs, in which he drove him for a long time over all +the ploughed fields in the neighbourhood. If this is not an exaggerated +account, Mr. Seaforth is certainly made of sterner stuff than most men. +I was told a funny anecdote of him a few days ago, which I am sure you +have never heard, otherwise you would have told it to me, for there +used to be no secrets between us, Charley—alas! I have no one to +confide in or advise with now that you are gone. You have often heard +of the great flood; not Noah’s one, but the flood that nearly swept +away our settlement and did so much damage before you and I were born. +Well, you recollect that people used to tell of the way in which the +river rose after the breaking up of the ice, and how it soon overflowed +all the low points, sweeping off everything in its course. Old Mr. +Seaforth’s house stood at that time on the little point, just beyond +the curve of the river, at the foot of which our own house stands, and +as the river continued to rise, Mr. Seaforth went about actively +securing his property. At first he only thought of his boat and canoes, +which, with the help of his son Peter and a Canadian, who happened at +the time to be employed about the place, he dragged up and secured to +an iron staple in the side of his house. Soon, however, he found that +the danger was greater than at first he imagined. The point became +completely covered with water, which brought down great numbers of +_half_-drowned and _quite_-drowned cattle, pigs, and poultry, and +stranded them at the garden fence, so that in a short time poor Mr. +Seaforth could scarcely move about his overcrowded domains. On seeing +this, he drove his own cattle to the highest land in his neighbourhood +and hastened back to the house, intending to carry as much of the +furniture as possible to the same place. But during his short absence +the river had risen so rapidly that he was obliged to give up all +thoughts of this, and think only of securing a few of his valuables. +The bit of land round his dwelling was so thickly covered with the poor +cows, sheep, and other animals, that he could scarcely make his way to +the house, and you may fancy his consternation on reaching it to find +that the water was more than knee-deep round the walls, while a few of +the cows and a whole herd of pigs had burst open the door (no doubt +accidentally) and coolly entered the dining-room, where they stood with +drooping heads, very wet, and apparently very miserable. The Canadian +was busy at the back of the house, loading the boat and canoe with +everything he could lay hands on, and was not aware of the foreign +invasion in front. Mr. Seaforth cared little for this, however, and +began to collect all the things he held most valuable, and threw them +to the man, who stowed them away in the boat. Peter had been left in +charge of the cattle, so they had to work hard. While thus employed the +water continued to rise with fearful rapidity, and rushed against the +house like a mill-race, so that it soon became evident that the whole +would ere long be swept away. Just as they finished loading the boat +and canoes, the staple which held them gave way; in a moment they were +swept into the middle of the river, and carried out of sight. The +Canadian was in the boat at the time the staple broke, so that Mr. +Seaforth was now left in a dwelling that bid fair to emulate Noah’s ark +in an hour or two, without a chance of escape, and with no better +company than five black oxen, in the dining-room, besides three sheep +that were now scarcely able to keep their heads above water, and three +little pigs that were already drowned. The poor old man did his best to +push out the intruders, but only succeeded in ejecting two sheep and an +ox. All the others positively refused to go, so he was fain to let them +stay. By shutting the outer door he succeeded in keeping out a great +deal of water. Then he waded into the parlour, where he found some more +little pigs, floating about and quite dead. Two, however, more +adventurous than their comrades, had saved their lives by mounting +first on a chair and then upon the table, where they were comfortably +seated, gazing languidly at their mother, a very heavy fat sow, which +sat, with what seemed an expression of settled despair, on the sofa. In +a fit of wrath, Mr. Seaforth seized the young pigs and tossed them out +of the window; whereupon the old one jumped down, and half-walking, +half-swimming, made her way to her companions in the dining-room. The +old gentleman now ascended to the garret, where from a small window he +looked out upon the scene of devastation. His chief anxiety was about +the foundation of the house, which, being made of a wooden framework, +like almost all the others in the colony, would certainly float if the +water rose much higher. His fears were better founded than the house. +As he looked up the river, which had by this time overflowed all its +banks, and was spreading over the plains, he saw a fresh burst of water +coming down, which, when it dashed against his dwelling, forced it +about two yards from its foundation. Suddenly he remembered that there +were a large anchor and chain in the kitchen, both of which he had +brought there one day, to serve as a sort of anvil when he wanted to do +some blacksmith work. Hastening down, he fastened one end of the chain +to the sofa, and cast the anchor out of the window. A few minutes +afterwards another rush of water struck the building, which yielded to +pressure, and swung slowly down until the anchor arrested its further +progress. This was only for a few seconds, however. The chain was a +slight one. It snapped, and the house swept majestically down the +stream, while its terrified owner scrambled to the roof, which he found +already in possession of his favourite cat. Here he had a clear view of +his situation. The plains were converted into a lake, above whose +surface rose trees and houses, several of which, like his own, were +floating on the stream or stranded among shallows. Settlers were rowing +about in boats and canoes in all directions, but although some of them +noticed the poor man sitting beside his cat on the housetop, they were +either too far off or had no time to render him assistance. + +For two days nothing was heard of old Mr. Seaforth. Indeed, the +settlers had too much to do in saving themselves and their families to +think of others; and it was not until the third day that people began +to inquire about him. His son Peter had taken a canoe and made diligent +search in all directions, but although he found the house sticking on a +shallow point, neither his father nor the cat was on or in it. At last +he was brought to the island, on which nearly half the colony had +collected, by an Indian who had passed the house, and brought him away +in his canoe, along with the old cat. Is he not a wonderful man, to +have come through so much in his old age? and he is still so active and +hearty! Mr. Swan of the mill is dead. He died of fever last week. Poor +old Mr. Cordon is also gone. His end was very sad. About a month ago he +ordered his horse and rode off, intending to visit Fort Garry. At the +turn of the road, just above Grant’s house, the horse suddenly swerved, +and its rider was thrown to the ground. He did not live more than +half-an-hour after it. Alas! how very sad to see a man, after escaping +all the countless dangers of a long life in the woods (and his, you +know, was a very adventurous one), thus cut violently down in his old +age. O Charley, how little we know what is before us! How needful to +have our peace made with God through Jesus Christ, so that we may be +ready at any moment when our Father calls us away. There are many +events of great interest that have occurred here since you left. You +will be glad to hear the Jane Patterson is married to our excellent +friend Mr. Cameron, who has taken up a store near to us, and intends to +run a boat to York Fort next summer. There has been another marriage +here which will cause you astonishment at least, if not pleasure. Old +Mr. Peters has married Marie Peltier! What _could_ have possessed her +to take such a husband? I cannot understand it. Just think of her, +Charley, a girl of eighteen, with a husband of seventy-five!— + + +At this point the writing, which was very close and very small, +terminated. Harry laid it down with a deep sigh, wishing much that +Charley had thought it advisable to send him the second sheet also. As +wishes and regrets on this point were equally unavailing, he +endeavoured to continue it in imagination, and was soon as deeply +absorbed in following Kate through the well-remembered scenes of Red +River as he had been, a short time before, in roaming with her brother +over the wide prairies of Saskatchewan. The increasing cold, however +soon warned him that the night was far spent. He rose and went to the +stove; but the fire had gone out, and the almost irresistible frost of +these regions was already cooling everything in Bachelors’ Hall down to +the freezing-point. All his companions had put out their candles, and +were busy, doubtless, dreaming of the friends whose letters had struck +and reawakened the long-dormant chords that used to echo to the tones +and scenes of other days. With a slight shiver, Harry returned to his +apartment, and kneeled to thank God for protecting and preserving his +absent friends, and especially for sending him “good news from a far +land.” The letter with the British post-marks on it was placed under +his pillow. It occupied his waking and sleeping thoughts that night, +and it was the first thing he thought of and reread on the following +morning, and for many mornings afterwards. Only those can fully +estimate the value of such letters who live in distant lands, where +letters are few—very, very few—and far between. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +Changes—Harry and Hamilton find that variety is indeed charming—The +latter astonishes the former considerably. + + +Three months passed away, but the snow still lay deep and white and +undiminished around York Fort. Winter—cold, silent, unyielding +winter—still drew its white mantle closely round the lonely dwelling of +the fur-traders of the Far North. + +Icicles hung, as they had done for months before, from the eaves of +every house, from the tall black scaffold on which the great bell hung, +and from the still taller erection that had been put up as an outlook +for “_the ship_” in summer. At the present time it commanded a bleak +view of the frozen sea. Snow covered every housetop, and hung in +ponderous masses from their edges, as if it were about to fall; but it +never fell—it hung there in the same position day after day, unmelted, +unchanged. Snow covered the whole land, and the frozen river, the +swamps, the sea-beach, and the sea itself, as far as the eye could +reach, seemed like a pure white carpet. Snow lined the upper edge of +every paling, filled up the key-hole of every door, embanked about half +of every window, stuck in little knobs on the top of every picket, and +clung in masses on every drooping branch of the pine trees in the +forest. Frost—sharp, biting frost—solidified, surrounded, and pervaded +everything. Mercury was congealed by it; vapour was condensed by it; +iron was cooled by it until it could scarcely be touched without (as +the men expressed it) “burning” the fingers. The water-jugs in +Bachelors’ Hall and the water-buckets were frozen by it, nearly to the +bottom; though there was a good stove there, and the Hall was not +_usually_ a cold place by any means. The breath of the inhabitants was +congealed by it on the window-panes, until they had become coated with +ice an inch thick. The breath of the men was rendered white and opaque +by it, as they panted and hurried to and fro about their ordinary +avocations; beating their gloved hands together, and stamping their +well-wrapped-up feet on the hard-beaten snow to keep them warm. Old +Bobin’s nose seemed to be entirely shrivelled up into his face by it, +as he drove his ox-cart to the river to fetch his daily supply of +water. The only things that were not affected by it were the fires, +which crackled and roared as if in laughter, and twisted and leaped as +if in uncontrollable glee at the bare idea of John Frost acquiring, by +any artifice whatever, the smallest possible influence over _them_! +Three months had elapsed, but frost and snow, instead of abating, had +gone on increasing and intensifying, deepening and extending its work, +and riveting its chains. Winter—cold, silent, unyielding winter—still +reigned at York Fort, as though it had made it a _sine qua non_ of its +existence at all that it should reign there for ever! + +But although everything was thus wintry and cold, it was by no means +cheerless or dreary. A bright sun shone in the blue heavens with an +intenseness of brilliancy that was quite dazzling to the eyes, that +elated the spirits, and caused man and beast to tread with a more +elastic step than usual. Although the sun looked down upon the scene +with an unclouded face, and found a mirror in every icicle and in every +gem of hoar-frost with which the objects of nature were loaded, there +was, however, no perceptible heat in his rays. They fell on the white +earth with all the brightness of midsummer, but they fell powerless as +moonbeams in the dead of winter. + +On the frozen river, just in front of the gate of the fort, a group of +men and dogs were assembled. The dogs were four in number, harnessed to +a small flat sledge of the slender kind used by Indians to drag their +furs and provisions over the snow. The group of men was composed of Mr. +Rogan and the inmates of Bachelors’ Hall, one or two men who happened +to be engaged there at the time in cutting a new water-hole in the ice, +and an Indian, who, to judge from his carefully-adjusted costume, the +snow-shoes on his feet, and the short whip in his hand, was the driver +of the sledge, and was about to start on a journey. Harry Somerville +and young Hamilton were also wrapped up more carefully than usual. + +“Good-bye, then, good-bye,” said Mr. Rogan, advancing towards the +Indian, who stood beside the leading dog, ready to start. “Take care of +our young friends; they’ve not had much experience in travelling yet; +and don’t over drive your dogs. Treat them well, and they’ll do more +work. They’re like men in that respect.” Mr. Rogan shook the Indian by +the hand, and the latter immediately flourished the whip and gave a +shout, which the dogs no sooner heard than they uttered a simultaneous +yell, sprang forward with a jerk, and scampered up the river, closely +followed by their dark-skinned driver. + +“Now, lads, farewell,” said the old gentleman, turning with a kindly +smile to our two friends, who were shaking hands for the last time with +their comrades. “I’m sorry you’re going to leave us, my boys. You’ve +done your duty well while here, and I would willingly have kept you a +little longer with me, but our governor wills it otherwise. However, I +trust that you’ll be happy wherever you may be sent. Don’t forget to +write to me. God bless you. Farewell.” + +Mr. Rogan shook them heartily by the hand, turned short round, and +walked slowly up to his house, with an expression of sadness on his +mild face; while Harry and Hamilton, having once more waved farewell to +their friends, marched up the river side by side in silence. They +followed the track left by the dog-sledge, which guided them with +unerring certainty, although their Indian leader and his team were out +of sight in advance. + +A week previous to this time an Indian arrived from the interior, +bearing a letter from headquarters, which directed that Messrs. +Somerville and Hamilton should be forthwith despatched on snow-shoes to +Norway House. As this establishment is about three hundred miles from +the sea-coast, the order involved a journey of nearly two weeks’ +duration through a country that was utterly destitute of inhabitants. +On receiving a command from Mr. Rogan to prepare for an early start, +Harry retired precipitately to his own room, and there, after cutting +unheard of capers, and giving vent to sudden, incomprehensible shouts, +all indicative of the highest state of delight, he condescended to tell +his companions of his good fortune, and set about preparations without +delay. Hamilton, on the contrary, gave his usual quiet smile on being +informed of his destination, and returning somewhat pensively to +Bachelors’ Hall, proceeded leisurely to make the necessary arrangements +for departure. As the time drew on, however, a perpetual flush on his +countenance, and an unusual brilliancy about his eye, showed that he +was not quite insensible to the pleasures of a change, and relished the +idea more than he got credit for. The Indian who had brought the letter +was ordered to hold himself in readiness to retrace his steps, and +conduct the young men through the woods to Norway House, where they +were to await further orders. A few days later the three travellers, as +already related, set out on their journey. + +After walking a mile up the river, they passed a point of land which +shut out the fort from view. Here they paused to take a last look, and +then pressed forward in silence, the thoughts of each being busy with +mingled recollections of their late home and anticipations of the +future. After an hour’s sharp walking they came in sight of the guide, +and slackened their pace. + +“Well, Hamilton,” said Harry, throwing off his reverie with a deep +sigh, “are you glad to leave York Fort, or sorry?” + +“Glad, undoubtedly,” replied Hamilton, “but sorry to part from our old +companions there. I had no idea, Harry, that I loved them all so much. +I feel as if I should be glad were the order for us to leave them +countermanded even now.” + +“That’s the very thought,” said Harry, “that was passing through my own +brain when I spoke to you. Yet somehow I think I should feel uncommonly +sorry after all if we were really sent back. There’s a queer +contradiction, Hammy: we’re sorry and happy at the same time! If I were +the skipper now, I would found a philosophical argument upon it.” + +“Which the skipper would carry on with untiring vigour,” said Hamilton, +smiling, “and afterwards make an entry of in his log. But I think, +Harry, that to feel the emotion of sorrow and joy at the same time is +not such a contradiction as it at first appears.” + +“Perhaps not,” replied Harry; “but it seems very contradictory to _me_, +and yet it’s an evident fact, for I’m _very_ sorry to leave _them_, and +I’m _very_ happy to have you for my companion here.” + +“So am I, so am I,” said the other heartily. “I would rather travel +with you, Harry, than with any of our late companions, although I like +them all very much.” + +The two friends had grown, almost imperceptibly, in each other’s esteem +during their residence under the same roof, more than either of them +would have believed possible. The gay, reckless hilarity of the one did +not at first accord with the quiet gravity and, as his comrades styled +it, _softness_ of the other. But character is frequently misjudged at +first sight, and sometimes men who on a first acquaintance have felt +repelled from each other have, on coming to know each other better, +discovered traits and good qualities that ere long formed enduring +bonds of sympathy, and have learned to love those whom at first they +felt disposed to dislike or despise. Thus Harry soon came to know that +what he at first thought and, along with his companions, called +softness in Hamilton in reality gentleness of disposition and thorough +good-nature, united in one who happened to be utterly unacquainted with +the _knowing_ ways of this peculiarly sharp and clever world, while in +the course of time new qualities showed themselves in a quiet, +unobtrusive way that won upon his affections and raised his esteem. On +the other hand, Hamilton found that although Harry was volatile, and +possessed of an irresistible tendency to fun and mischief, he never by +any chance gave way to anger, or allowed malice to enter into his +practical jokes. Indeed, he often observed him to restrain his natural +tendencies when they were at all likely to give pain, though Harry +never dreamed that such efforts were known to any one but himself. +Besides this, Harry was peculiarly _unselfish_, and when a man is +possessed of this inestimable disposition, he is, not _quite_ but _very +nearly_, perfect! + +After another pause, during which the party had left the open river and +directed their course through the woods, where the depth of the snow +obliged them to tread in each other’s footsteps, Harry resumed the +conversation. + +“You have not yet told me, by-the-by, what old Mr. Rogan said to you +just before we started. Did he give you any hint as to where you might +be sent to after reaching Norway House?” + +“No; he merely said he knew that clerks were wanted both for Mackenzie +River and the Saskatchewan districts, but he did not know which I was +destined for.” + +“Hum! exactly what he said to me, with the slight addition that he +strongly suspected that Mackenzie River would be my doom. Are you +aware, Hammy my boy, that the Saskatchewan district is a sort of +terrestrial paradise, and Mackenzie River equivalent to Botany Bay?” + +“I have heard as much during our conversations in Bachelors’ Hall, +but—Stop a bit, Harry; these snow-shoe lines of mine have got loosened +with tearing through this deep snow and these shockingly thick bushes. +There—they are right now; go on. I was going to say that I don’t—oh!” + +This last exclamation was elicited from Hamilton by a sharp blow caused +by a branch which, catching on part of Harry’s dress as he plodded on +in front, suddenly rebounded and struck him across the face. This is of +common occurrence in travelling through the woods, especially to those +who from inexperience walk too closely on the heels of their +companions. + +“What’s wrong now, Hammy?” inquired his friend, looking over his +shoulder. + +“Oh, nothing worth mentioning—rather a sharp blow from a branch, that’s +all.” + +“Well, proceed; you’ve interrupted yourself twice in what you were +going to say. Perhaps it’ll come out if you try it a third time.” + +“I was merely going to say that I don’t much care where I am sent to, +so long as it is not to an outpost where I shall be all alone.” + +“All very well, my friend; but seeing that outposts are, in comparison +with principal forts, about a hundred to one, your chance of avoiding +them is rather slight. However, our youth and want of experience is in +our favour, as they like to send men who have seen some service to +outposts. But I fear that, with such brilliant characters as you and I, +Hammy, youth will only be an additional recommendation, and +inexperience won’t last long.—Hollo! what’s going on yonder?” + +Harry pointed as he spoke to an open spot in the woods about a quarter +of a mile in advance, where a dark object was seen lying on the snow, +writhing about, now coiling into a lump, and anon extending itself like +a huge snake in agony. + +As the two friends looked, a prolonged howl floated towards them. + +“Something wrong with the dogs, I declare!” cried Harry. + +“No doubt of it,” replied his friend, hurrying forward, as they saw +their Indian guide rise from the ground and flourish his whip +energetically, while the howls rapidly increased. + +A few minutes brought them to the scene of action, where they found the +dogs engaged in a fight among themselves, and the driver, in a state of +vehement passion, alternately belabouring and trying to separate them. +Dogs in these regions, like the dogs of all other regions, we suppose, +are very much addicted to fighting—a propensity which becomes extremely +unpleasant if indulged while the animals are in harness, as they then +become peculiarly savage, probably from their being unable, like an +ill-assorted pair in wedlock, to cut or break the ties that bind them. +Moreover, they twist the traces into such an ingeniously complicated +mass that it renders disentanglement almost impossible, even after +exhaustion has reduced them to obedience. Besides this, they are so +absorbed in worrying each other that for the time they are utterly +regardless of their driver’s lash or voice. This naturally makes the +driver angry, and sometimes irascible men practise shameful cruelties +on the poor dogs. When the two friends came up they found the Indian +glaring at the animals, as they fought and writhed in the snow, with +every lineament of his swarthy face distorted with passion, and panting +from his late exertions. Suddenly he threw himself on the dogs again, +and lashed them furiously with the whip. Finding that this had no +effect, he twined the lash round his hand, and struck them violently +over their heads and snouts with the handle; then falling down on his +knees, he caught the most savage of the animals by the throat, and +seizing its nose between his teeth almost bit it off. The appalling +yell that followed this cruel act seemed to subdue the dogs, for they +ceased to fight, and crouched, whining, in the snow. + +With a bound like a tiger young Hamilton sprang upon the guide, and +seizing him by the throat, hurled him violently to the ground. +“Scoundrel!” he cried, standing over the crestfallen Indian with +flushed face and flashing eyes, “how dare you thus treat the creatures +of God?” + +The young man would have spoken more, but his indignation was so fierce +that it could not find vent in words. For a moment he raised his fist, +as if he meditated dashing the Indian again to the ground as he slowly +arose; then, as if changing his mind, he seized him by the back of the +neck, thrust him towards the panting dogs, and stood in silence over +him with the whip grasped firmly in his hand, while he disentangled the +traces. + +This accomplished, Hamilton ordered him in a voice of suppressed anger +to “go forward”—an order which the cowed guide promptly obeyed, and in +a few minutes more the two friends were again alone. + +“Hamilton, my boy,” exclaimed Harry, who up to this moment seemed to +have been petrified, “you have perfectly amazed me! I’m utterly +bewildered.” + +“Indeed, I fear that I have been very violent,” said Hamilton, blushing +deeply. + +“Violent!” exclaimed his friend. “Why, man, I’ve completely mistaken +your character. I—I—” + +“I hope not, Harry,” said Hamilton, in a subdued tone; “I hope not. +Believe me, I am not naturally violent. I should be very sorry were you +to think so. Indeed, I never felt thus before, and now that it is over +I am amazed at myself; but surely you’ll admit that there was great +provocation. Such terrible cruelty to—” + +“My dear fellow, you quite misunderstand me. I’m amazed at your pluck, +your energy. _Soft_ indeed! we have been most egregiously mistaken. +Provocation! I just think you had; my only sorrow is that you didn’t +give him a little more.” + +“Come, come, Harry; I see you would be as cruel to him as he was to the +poor dog. But let us press forward; it is already growing dark, and we +must not let the fellow out of sight ahead of us.” + +“_Allons donc_,” cried Harry; and hastening their steps, they travelled +silently and rapidly among the stems of the trees, while the shades of +night gathered slowly round them. + +That night the three travellers encamped in the snow under the shelter +of a spreading pine. The encampment was formed almost exactly in a +similar manner to that in which they had slept on the night of their +exploits at North River. They talked less, however, than on that +occasion, and slept more soundly. Before retiring to rest, and while +Harry was extended, half asleep and half awake, on his green blanket, +enjoying the delightful repose that follows a hard day’s march and a +good supper, Hamilton drew near to the Indian, who sat sullenly smoking +a little apart from the young men. Sitting down beside him, he +administered a long rebuke in a low, grave tone of voice. Like rebukes +generally, it had the effect of making the visage of the Indian still +more sullen. But the young man did not appear to notice this; he still +continued to talk. As he went on, the look grew less and less sullen, +until it faded entirely away, and was succeeded by that grave, quiet, +respectful expression peculiar to the face of the North American +Indian. + +Day succeeded day, night followed night, and still found them plodding +laboriously through the weary waste of snow, or encamping under the +trees of the forest. The two friends went through all the varied stages +of experience which are included in what is called “becoming used to +the work,” which is sometimes a modified meaning of the expression +“used up.” They started with a degree of vigour that one would have +thought no amount of hard work could possibly abate. They became aware +of the melancholy fact that fatigue unstrings the youngest and toughest +sinews. They pressed on, however, from stern necessity, and found, to +their delight, that young muscles recover their elasticity even in the +midst of severe exertion. They still pressed on, and discovered, to +their dismay, that this recovery was only temporary, and that the +second state of exhaustion was infinitely worse than the first. Still +they pressed on, and raised blisters on their feet and toes that caused +them to limp wofully; then they learned that blisters break and take a +long time to heal, and are much worse to walk upon during the healing +process than they are at the commencement—at which time they innocently +fancied that nothing could be more dreadful. Still they pressed on day +after day, and found to their satisfaction that such things can be +endured and overcome; that feet and toes can become hard like leather, +that muscles can grow tough as india-rubber, and that spirits and +energy can attain to a pitch of endurance which nothing within the +compass of a day’s march can by any possibility overcome. They found +also, from experience, that their conversation changed, both in manner +and subject, as they progressed on their journey. At first they +conversed frequently and on various topics, chiefly on the probability +of their being sent to pleasant places or the reverse. Then they spoke +less frequently, and growled occasionally, as they advanced in the +painful process of training. After that, as they began to get hardy, +they talked of the trees, the snow, the ice, the tracks of wild animals +they happened to cross, and the objects of nature generally that came +under their observation. Then as their muscles hardened and their +sinews grew tough, and the day’s march at length became first a matter +of indifference, and ultimately an absolute pleasure, they chatted +cheerfully on any and every subject, or sang occasionally, when the sun +shone out and cast an _appearance_ of warmth across their path. Thus +onward they pressed, without halt or stay, day after day, through wood +and brake, over river and lake, on ice and on snow, for miles and miles +together, through the great, uninhabited, frozen wilderness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +Hopes and fears—An unexpected meeting—Philosophical talk between the +hunter and the parson. + + +On arriving at Norway House, Harry Somerville and his friend Hamilton +found that they were to remain at that establishment during an +indefinite period of time, until it should please those in whose hands +their ultimate destination lay to direct them how and where to proceed. +This was an unlooked-for trial of their patience; but after the first +exclamation of disappointment, they made up their minds, like wise men, +to think no more about it, but bide their time, and make the most of +present circumstances. + +“You see,” remarked Hamilton, as the two friends, after having had an +audience of the gentleman in charge of the establishment, sauntered +towards the rocks that overhang the margin of Playgreen Lake—“you see, +it is of no use to fret about what we cannot possibly help. Nobody +within three hundred miles of us knows where we are destined to spend +next winter. Perhaps orders may come in a couple of weeks, perhaps in a +couple of months, but they will certainly come at last. Anyhow, it is +of no use thinking about it, so we had better forget it, and make the +best of things as we find them.” + +“Ah!” exclaimed Harry, “your advice is, that we should by all means be +happy, and if we can’t be happy, be as happy as we can. Is that it?” + +“Just so. That’s it exactly.” + +“Ho! But then you see, Hammy, you’re a philosopher and I’m not, and +that makes all the difference. I’m not given to anticipating evil, but +I cannot help dreading that they will send me to some lonely, swampy, +out-of-the-way hole, where there will be no society, no shooting, no +riding, no work even to speak of—nothing, in fact, but the miserable +satisfaction of being styled ‘bourgeois’ by five or six men, wretched +outcasts like myself.” + +“Come, Harry,” cried Hamilton; “you are taking the very worst view of +it. There certainly are plenty of such outposts in the country, but you +know very well that young fellows like you are seldom sent to such +places.” + +“I don’t know that,” interrupted Harry. “There’s young M’Andrew: he was +sent to an outpost up the Mackenzie his second year in the service, +where he was all but starved, and had to live for about two weeks on +boiled parchment. Then there’s poor Forrester: he was shipped off to a +place—the name of which I never could remember—somewhere between the +head-waters of the Athabasca Lake and the North Pole. To be sure, he +had good shooting, I’m told, but he had only four labouring men to +enjoy it with; and he has been there _ten_ years now, and he has more +than once had to scrape the rocks of that detestable stuff called +_tripe de roche_ to keep himself alive. And then there’s——” + +“Very true,” interrupted Hamilton. “Then there’s your friend Charles +Kennedy, whom you so often talk about, and many other young fellows we +know, who have been sent to the Saskatchewan, and to the Columbia, and +to Athabasca, and to a host of other capital places, where they have +enough of society—male society, at least—and good sport.” + +The young men had climbed a rocky eminence which commanded a view of +the lake on the one side, and the fort, with its background of woods, +on the other. Here they sat down on a stone, and continued for some +time to admire the scene in silence. + +“Yes,” said Harry, resuming the thread of discourse, “you are right: we +have a good chance of seeing some pleasant parts of the country. But +suspense is not pleasant. O man, if they would only send me up the +Saskatchewan River! I’ve set my heart upon going there. I’m quite sure +it’s the very best place in the whole country.” + +“You’ve told the truth that time, master,” said a deep voice behind +them. + +The young men turned quickly round. Close beside them, and leaning +composedly on a long Indian fowling-piece, stood a tall, +broad-shouldered, sun-burned man, apparently about forty years of age. +He was dressed in the usual leathern hunting-coat, cloth leggings, fur +cap, mittens, and moccasins that constitute the winter garb of a +hunter; and had a grave, firm, but good-humoured expression of +countenance. + +“You’ve told the truth that time, master,” he repeated, without moving +from his place. “The Saskatchewan _is_, to my mind, the best place in +the whole country; and havin’ seen a considerable deal o’ places in my +time, I can speak from experience.” + +“Indeed, friend,” said Harry, “I’m glad to hear you say so. Come, sit +down beside us, and let’s hear something about it.” + +Thus invited, the hunter seated himself on a stone and laid his gun on +the hollow of his left arm. + +“First of all, friend,” continued Harry, “do you belong to the fort +here?” + +“No,” replied the man, “I’m staying here just now, but I don’t belong +to the place.” + +“Where do you come from then, and what’s your name?” + +“Why, I’ve comed d’rect from the Saskatchewan with a packet o’ letters. +I’m payin’ a visit to the missionary village yonder”—the hunter pointed +as he spoke across the lake—“and when the ice breaks up I shall get a +canoe and return again.” + +“And your name?” + +“Why, I’ve got four or five names. Somehow or other people have given +me a nickname wherever I ha’ chanced to go. But my true name, and the +one I hail by just now, is Jacques Caradoc.” + +“Jacques Caradoc!” exclaimed Harry, starting with surprise. “You knew a +Charley Kennedy in the Saskatchewan, did you?” + +“That did I. As fine a lad as ever pulled a trigger.” + +“Give us your hand, friend,” exclaimed Harry, springing forward, and +seizing the hunter’s large, hard fist in both hands. “Why, man, Charley +is my dearest friend, and I had a letter from him some time ago in +which he speaks of you, and says you’re one of the best fellows he ever +met.” + +“You don’t say so,” replied the hunter, returning Harry’s grasp warmly, +while his eyes sparkled with pleasure, and a quiet smile played at the +corner of his mouth. + +“Yes I do,” said Harry; “and I’m very nearly as glad to meet with you, +friend Jacques, as I would be to meet with him. But come; it’s cold +work talking here. Let’s go to my room; there’s a fire in the +stove.—Come along, Hammy;” and taking his new friend by the arm, he +hurried him along to his quarters in the fort. + +Just as they were passing under the fort gate, a large mass of snow +became detached from a housetop and fell heavily at their feet, passing +within an inch of Hamilton’s nose. The young man started back with an +exclamation, and became very red in the face. + +“Hollo!” cried Harry, laughing, “got a fright, Hammy! That went so +close to your chin that it almost saved you the trouble of shaving.” + +“Yes; I got a little fright from the suddenness of it,” said Hamilton +quietly. + +“What do you think of my friend there?” said Harry to Jacques, in a low +voice, pointing to Hamilton, who walked on in advance. + +“I’ve not seen much of him, master,” replied the hunter. “Had I been +asked the same question about the same lad twenty years agone, I should +ha’ said he was soft, and perhaps chicken-hearted. But I’ve learned +from experience to judge better than I used to do. I niver thinks o’ +forming an opinion o’ anyone till I geen them called to sudden action. +It’s astonishin’ how some faint-hearted men will come to face a danger +and put on an awful look o’ courage if they only get warnin’, but take +them by surprise—that’s the way to try them.” + +“Well, Jacques, that is the very reason why I ask your opinion of +Hamilton. He was pretty well taken by surprise that time, I think.” + +“True, master; but _that_ kind of start don’t prove much. Hows’ever, I +don’t think he’s easy upset. He does _look_ uncommon soft, and his face +grew red when the snow fell, but his eyebrow and his under lip showed +that it wasn’t from fear.” + +During that afternoon and the greater part of that night the three +friends continued in close conversation—Harry sitting in front of the +stove, with his hands in his pockets, on a chair tilted as usual on its +hind legs, and pouring out volleys of questions, which were pithily +answered by the good-humoured, loquacious hunter, who sat behind the +stove, resting his elbows on his knees, and smoking his much-loved +pipe; while Hamilton reclined on Harry’s bed, and listened with eager +avidity to anecdotes and stories, which seemed, like the narrator’s +pipe, to be inexhaustible. + +“Good-night, Jacques, good-night,” said Harry, as the latter rose at +last to depart; “I’m delighted to have had a talk with you. You must +come back to-morrow. I want to hear more about your friend Redfeather. +Where did you say you left him?” + +“In the Saskatchewan, master. He said that he would wait there, as he’d +heerd the missionary was comin’ up to pay the Injins a visit.” + +“By-the-by, you’re going over to the missionary’s place to-morrow, are +you not?” + +“Yes, I am.” + +“Ah, then, that’ll do. I’ll go over with you. How far off is it?” + +“Three miles or thereabouts.” + +“Very good. Call in here as you pass, and my friend Hamilton and I will +accompany you. Good-night.” + +Jacques thrust his pipe into his bosom, held out his horny hand, and +giving his young friends a hearty shake, turned and strode from the +room. + +On the following day Jacques called according to promise, and the three +friends set off together to visit the Indian village. This missionary +station was under the management of a Wesleyan clergyman, Pastor Conway +by name, an excellent man, of about forty-five years of age, with an +energetic mind and body, a bald head, a mild, expressive countenance, +and a robust constitution. He was admirably qualified for his position, +having a natural aptitude for every sort of work that man is usually +called on to perform. His chief care was for the instruction of the +Indians, whom he had induced to settle around him, in the great and +all-important truths of Christianity. He invented an alphabet, and +taught them to write and read their own language. He commenced the +laborious task of translating the Scriptures into the Cree language; +and being an excellent musician, he instructed his converts to sing in +parts the psalms and Wesleyan hymns, many of which are exceedingly +beautiful. A school was also established and a church built under his +superintendence, so that the natives assembled in an orderly way in a +commodious sanctuary every Sabbath day to worship God; while the +children were instructed, not only in the Scriptures, and made familiar +with the narrative of the humiliation and exaltation of our blessed +Saviour, but were also taught the elementary branches of a secular +education. But good Pastor Conway’s energy did not stop here. Nature +had gifted him with that peculiar genius which is powerfully expressed +in the term “a jack-of-all-trades.” He could turn his hand to anything; +and being, as we have said, an energetic man, he did turn his hand to +almost everything. If anything happened to get broken, the pastor could +either “mend it himself or direct how it was to be done. If a house was +to be built for a new family of red men, who had never handled a saw or +hammer in their lives, and had lived up to that time in tents, the +pastor lent a hand to begin it, drew out the plan (not a very +complicated thing certainly), set them fairly at work, and kept his eye +on it until it was finished. In short, the worthy pastor was everything +to everybody, “that by all means he might gain some.” + +Under such management the village flourished as a matter of course, +although it did not increase very rapidly owing to the almost +unconquerable aversion of North American Indians to take up a settled +habitation. + +It was to this little hamlet, then, that our three friends directed +their steps. On arriving, they found Pastor Conway in a sort of +workshop, giving directions to an Indian who stood with a +soldering-iron in one hand and a sheet of tin in the other, which he +was about to apply to a curious-looking half-finished machine that bore +some resemblance to a canoe. + +“Ah, my friend Jacques!” he exclaimed as the hunter approached him, +“the very man I wished to see. But I beg pardon, gentlemen,-strangers, +I perceive. You are heartily welcome. It is seldom that I have the +pleasure of seeing new friends in my wild dwelling. Pray come with me +to my house.” + +Pastor Conway shook hands with Harry and Hamilton with a degree of +warmth that evinced the sincerity of his words. The young men thanked +him and accepted the invitation. + +As they turned to quit the workshop, the pastor observed Jacques’s eye +fixed with a puzzled expression of countenance, on his canoe. + +“You have never seen anything like that before, I daresay?” said he, +with a smile. + +“No, sir; I never did see such a queer machine afore.” + +“It is a tin canoe, with which I hope to pass through many miles of +country this spring, on my way to visit a tribe of Northern Indians, +and it was about this very thing that I wanted to see you, my friend.” + +Jacques made no reply, but cast a look savouring very slightly of +contempt on the unfinished canoe as they turned and went away. + +The pastor’s dwelling stood at one end of the village, a view of which +it commanded from the back windows, while those in front overlooked the +lake. It was pleasantly situated and pleasantly tenanted, for the +pastor’s wife was a cheerful, active little lady, like-minded with +himself, and delighted to receive and entertain strangers. To her care +Mr. Conway consigned the young men, after spending a short time in +conversation with them; and then, requesting his wife to show them +through the village, he took Jacques by the arm and sauntered out. + +“Come with me, Jacques,” he began; “I have somewhat to say to you. I +had not time to broach the subject when I met you at the Company’s +fort, and have been anxious to see you ever since. You tell me that you +have met with my friend Redfeather.” + +“Yes, sir; I spent a week or two with him last fall I found him stayin’ +with his tribe, and we started to come down here together.” + +“Ah, that is the very point,” exclaimed the pastor, “that I wish to +inquire about. I firmly believe that God has opened that Indian’s eyes +to see the truth; and I fully expected from what he said when we last +met, that he would have made up his mind to come and stay here.” + +“As to what the Almighty has done to him,” said Jacques, in a +reverential tone of voice, “I don’t pretend to know; he did for sartin +speak, and act too, in a way that I never seed an Injin do before. But +about his comin’ here, sir, you were quite right: he did mean to come, +and I’ve no doubt will come yet.” + +“What prevented him coming with you, as you tell me he intended?” +inquired the pastor. + +“Well, you see, sir, he and I and his squaw, as I said, set off to come +here together: but when we got the length o’ Edmonton House, we heerd +that you were comin’ up to pay a visit to the tribe to which Redfeather +belongs; and so seem’ that it was o’ no use to come down hereaway just +to turn about an’ go up agin, he stopped there to wait for you, for he +knew you would want him to interpret—” + +“Ay,” interrupted the pastor, “that’s true. I have two reasons for +wishing to have him here. The primary one is, that he may get good to +his immortal soul; and then he understands English so well that I want +him to become my interpreter; for although I understand the Cree +language pretty well now, I find it exceedingly difficult to explain +the doctrines of the Bible to my people in it. But pardon me, I +interrupted you.” + +“I was only going to say,” resumed Jacques, “that I made up my mind to +stay with him; but they wanted a man to bring the winter packet here, +so, as they pressed me very hard, an’ I had nothin’ particular to do, I +’greed and came, though I would rather ha’ stopped; for Redfeather an’ +I ha’ struck up a friendship togither—a thing that I would never ha’ +thought it poss’ble for me to do with a red Injin.” + +“And why not with a red Indian, friend?” inquired the pastor, while a +shade of sadness passed over his mild features, as if unpleasant +thoughts had been roused by the hunter’s speech. + +“Well, it’s not easy to say why,” rejoined the other. “I’ve no +partic’lar objection to the red-skins. There’s only one man among them +that I bears a grudge agin, and even that one I’d rayther avoid than +otherwise.” + +“But you should _forgive_ him, Jacques. The Bible tells us not only to +bear our enemies no grudge, but to love them and to do them good.” + +The hunter’s brow darkened. “That’s impossible, sir,” he said; “I +couldn’t do _him_ a good turn if I was to try ever so hard. He may +bless his stars that I don’t want to do him mischief; but to _love +him_, it’s jist imposs’ble.” + +“With man it is impossible, but with God all things are possible,” said +the pastor solemnly. + +Jacques’s naturally philosophic though untutored mind saw the force of +this. He felt that God, who had formed his soul, his body, and the +wonderfully complicated machinery and objects of nature, which were +patent to his observant and reflective mind wherever he went, must of +necessity be equally able to alter, influence, and remould them all +according to His will. Common-sense was sufficient to teach him this; +and the bold hunter exhibited no ordinary amount of common-sense in +admitting the fact at once, although in the case under discussion (the +loving of his enemy) it seemed utterly impossible to his feelings and +experience. The frown, therefore, passed from his brow, while he said +respectfully, “What you say, sir, is true; I believe though I can’t +_feel_ it. But I s’pose the reason I niver felt much drawn to the +red-skins is, that all the time I lived in the settlements I was used +to hear them called and treated as thievin’ dogs, an ‘when I com’d +among them I didn’t see much to alter my opinion. Here an’ there I have +found one or two honest Injins, an’ Redfeather is as true as steel; but +the most o’ them are no better than they should be. I s’pose I don’ +think much o’ them just because they are red-skins.” + +“Ah, Jacques, you will excuse me if I say that there is not much sense +in _that_ reason. An Indian cannot help being a red man any more than +you can help being a white one, so that he ought not to be despised on +that account. Besides, God made him what he is, and to despise the +_work_ of God, or to undervalue it, is to despise God Himself. You may +indeed despise, or rather abhor, the sins that red men are guilty of; +but if you despise _them_ on this ground, you must much more despise +white men, for _they_ are guilty of greater iniquities than Indians +are. They have more knowledge, and are therefore more inexcusable when +they sin; and anyone who has travelled much must be aware that, in +regard to general wickedness, white men are at least quite as bad as +Indians. Depend upon it, Jacques, that there will be Indians found in +heaven at the last day as well as white men. God is no respecter of +persons.” + +“I niver thought much on that subject afore, sir,” returned the hunter; +“what you say seems reasonable enough. I’m sure an’ sartin, any way, +that if there’s a red-skin in heaven at all, Redfeather will be there, +an’ I only hope that I may be there too to keep him company.” + +“I hope so, my friend,”, said the pastor earnestly; “I hope so too, +with all my heart. And if you will accept of this little book, it will +show you how to get there.” + +The missionary drew a small, plainly-bound copy of the Bible from his +pocket as he spoke, and presented it to Jacques, who received it with a +smile, and thanked him, saying, at the same time, that he “was not much +up to book-larnin’, but he would read it with pleasure.” + +“Now, Jacques,” said the pastor, after a little further conversation on +the subject of the Bible, in which he endeavoured to impress upon him +the absolute necessity of being acquainted with the blessed truths +which it contains—“now, Jacques, about my visit to the Indians. I +intend, if the Almighty spares me, to embark in yon tin canoe that you +found me engaged with, and, with six men to work it, proceed to the +country of the Knisteneux Indians, visit their chief camp, and preach +to them there as long as the weather will permit. When the season is +pretty well advanced, and winter threatens to cut off my retreat, I +shall re-embark in my canoe and return home. By this means I hope to be +able to sow the good seed of Christian truths in the hearts of men who, +as they will not come to this settlement, have no chance of being +brought under the power of the Gospel by any other means.” + +Jacques gave one of his quiet smiles on hearing this. “Right +sir—right,” he said, with some energy; “I have always thought, although +I niver made bold to say it before, that there was not enough o’ this +sort o’ thing. It has always seemed to me a kind o’ madness (excuse my +plainness o’ speech, sir) in you pastors, thinkin’ to make the +red-skins come and settle round you like so many squaws, and dig up an’ +grub at the ground, when it’s quite clear that their natur’ and the +natur’ o’ things about them meant them to be hunters. An’ surely, since +the Almighty made them hunters, He intended them to _be_ hunters, an’ +won’t refuse to make them Christians on _that_ account. A red-skin’s +natur’ is a huntin’ natur’, an’ nothin’ on arth ’ll ever make it +anything else.’ + +“There is much truth in what you observe, friend,” rejoined the pastor; +“but you are not _altogether_ right. Their nature _may_ be changed, +although certainly nothing on _earth_ will change it. Look at that +frozen lake.” He pointed to the wide field of thick snow-covered ice +that stretched out for miles like a sheet of white marble before them. +“Could anything on earth break up or sink or melt that?” + +“Nothin’,” replied Jacques, laconically. + +“But the warm beams of yon glorious sun can do it,” continued the +pastor, pointing upwards as he spoke, “and do it effectually too; so +that, although you can scarcely observe the process, it nevertheless +turns the hard, thick, solid ice into limpid water at last. So is it in +regard to man. Nothing on earth can change his heart, or alter his +nature; but our Saviour, who is called the Sun of Righteousness, can. +When He shines into a man’s soul it melts. The old man becomes a little +child, the wild savage a Christian. But I agree with you in thinking +that we have not been sufficiently alive to the necessity of seeking to +convert the Indians before trying to gather them round us. The one +would follow as a natural consequence, I think, of the other, and it is +owing to this conviction that I intend, as I have already said, to make +a journey in spring to visit those who will not or cannot come to visit +me. And now, what I want to ask is whether you will agree to accompany +me as steersman and guide on my expedition.” + +The hunter slowly shook his head. “I’m afeard not sir; I have already +promised to take charge of a canoe for the Company. I would much rather +go with you, but I must keep my word.” + +“Certainly, Jacques, certainly; that settles the question You cannot go +with me—unless—” the pastor paused as if in thought for a +moment—“unless you can persuade them to let you off.” + +“Well, sir, I can try,” returned Jacques. + +“Do; and I need not say how happy I shall be if you succeed. Good-day, +friend, good-bye.” So saying, the missionary shook hands with the +hunter and returned to his house, while Jacques wended his way to the +village in search of Harry and Hamilton. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +Good news and romantic scenery—Bear-hunting and its results. + + +Jaques failed in his attempt to break off his engagement with the +fur-traders. The gentleman in charge of Norway House, albeit a +good-natured, estimable man, was one who could not easily brook +disappointment, especially in matters that involved the interests of +the Hudson’s Bay Company; so Jacques was obliged to hold to his +compact, and the pastor had to search for another guide. + +Spring came, and with it the awakening (if we may use the expression) +of the country from the long, lethargic sleep of winter. The sun burst +forth with irresistible power, and melted all before it. Ice and snow +quickly dissolved, and set free the waters of swamp and river, lake and +sea, to leap and sparkle in their new-found liberty. Birds renewed +their visits to the regions of the north; frogs, at last unfrozen, +opened their leathern jaws to croak and whistle in the marshes; and men +began their preparations for a summer campaign. + +At the commencement of the season an express arrived with letters from +headquarters, which, among other matters of importance, directed that +Messrs. Somerville and Hamilton should be despatched forthwith to the +Saskatchewan district, where, on reaching Fort Pitt, they were to place +themselves at the disposal of the gentleman in charge of the district. +It need scarcely be added that the young men were overjoyed on +receiving this almost unhoped-for intelligence, and that Harry +expressed his satisfaction in his usual hilarious manner, asserting, +somewhat profanely, in the excess of his glee, that the +governor-in-chief of Rupert’s Land was a “regular brick.” Hamilton +agreed to all his friend’s remarks with a quiet smile, accompanied by a +slight chuckle, and a somewhat desperate attempt at a caper, which +attempt, bordering as it did on a region of buffoonery into which our +quiet and gentlemanly friend had never dared hitherto to venture proved +an awkward and utter failure. He felt this and blushed deeply. + +It was further arranged and agreed upon that the young men should +accompany Jacques Caradoc in his canoe. Having become sufficiently +expert canoemen to handle their paddles well, they scouted the idea of +taking men with them, and resolved to launch boldly forth at once as +_bona-fide_ voyageurs. To this arrangement Jacques, after one or two +trials to test their skill, agreed; and very shortly after the arrival +of the express, the trio set out on their voyage, amid the cheers and +adieus of the entire population of Norway House, who were assembled on +the end of the wooden wharf to witness their departure, and with whom +they had managed during their short residence at that place, to become +special favourites. A month later, the pastor of the Indian village, +having procured a trusty guide, embarked in his tin canoe with a crew +of six men, and followed in their track. + +In process of time spring merged into summer—a season mostly +characterised in those climes by intense heat and innumerable clouds of +musquitoes, whose vicious and incessant attacks render life, for the +time being, a burden. Our three voyageurs, meanwhile, ascended the +Saskatchewan, penetrating deeper each day into the heart of the North +American continent. On arriving at Fort Pitt, they were graciously +permitted to rest for three days, after which they were forwarded to +another district, where fresh efforts were being made to extend the +fur-trade into lands hitherto almost unvisited. This continuation of +their travels was quite suited to the tastes and inclinations of Harry +and Hamilton, and was hailed by them as an additional reason for +self-gratulation. As for Jacques, he cared little to what part of the +world he chanced to be sent. To hunt, to toil in rain and in sunshine, +in heat and in cold, at the paddle or on the snow-shoe, was his +vocation, and it mattered little to the bold hunter whether he plied it +upon the plains of the Saskatchewan or among the woods of Athabasca. +Besides, the companions of his travels were young, active, bold, +adventurous, and therefore quite suited to his taste. Redfeather, too, +his best and dearest friend, had been induced to return to his tribe +for the purpose of mediating between some of the turbulent members of +it and the white men who had gone to settle among them, so that the +prospect of again associating with his red friend was an additional +element in his satisfaction. As Charley Kennedy was also in this +district, the hope of seeing him once more was a subject of such +unbounded delight to Harry Somerville, and so, sympathetically, to +young Hamilton, that it was with difficulty they could realize the full +amount of their good fortune, or give adequate expression to their +feelings. It is therefore probable that there never were three happier +travellers than Jacques, Harry, and Hamilton, as they shouldered their +guns and paddles, shook hands with the inmates of Fort Pitt, and with +light steps and lighter hearts launched their canoe, turned their +bronzed faces once more to the summer sun, and dipped their paddles +again in the rippling waters of the Saskatchewan River. + +As their bark was exceedingly small, and burdened with but little +lading, they resolved to abandon the usual route, and penetrate the +wilderness through a maze of lakes and small rivers well known to their +guide. By this arrangement they hoped to travel more speedily, and +avoid navigating a long sweep of the river by making a number of +portages; while, at the same time, the changeful nature of the route +was likely to render it more interesting. From the fact of its being +seldom traversed, it was also more likely that they should find a +supply of game for the journey. + +Towards sunset, one fine day, about two weeks after their departure +from Fort Pitt, our voyageurs paddled their canoe round a wooded point +of land that jutted out from, and partly concealed, the mouth of a +large river, down whose stream they had dropped leisurely during the +last three days, and swept out upon the bosom of a large lake. This was +one of those sheets of water which glitter in hundreds on the green +bosom of America’s forests, and are so numerous and comparatively +insignificant as to be scarce distinguished by a name, unless when they +lie directly in the accustomed route of the fur-traders. But although, +in comparison with the freshwater oceans of the Far West, this lake was +unnoticed and almost unknown, it would by no means have been regarded +in such a light had it been transported to the plains of England. In +regard to picturesque beauty, it was perhaps unsurpassed. It might be +about six miles wide, and so long that the land at the farther end of +it was faintly discernible on the horizon. Wooded hills, sloping gently +down to the water’s edge; jutting promontories, some rocky and barren, +others more or less covered with trees; deep bays, retreating in some +places into the dark recesses of a savage-looking gorge, in others into +a distant meadow-like plain, bordered with a stripe of yellow sand; +beautiful islands of various sizes, scattered along the shores as if +nestling there for security, or standing barren and solitary in the +centre of the lake, like bulwarks of the wilderness, some covered with +luxuriant vegetation, others bald and grotesque in outline, and covered +with gulls and other water-fowl,—this was the scene that broke upon the +view of the travellers as they rounded the point, and, ceasing to +paddle, gazed upon it long and in deep silence, their hands raised to +shade their eyes from the sun’s rays, which sparkled in the water, and +fell, here in bright spots and broken patches, and there in yellow +floods, upon the rocks, the trees, the forest glades and plains around +them. + +“What a glorious scene!” murmured Hamilton, almost unconsciously. + +“A perfect paradise!” said Harry, with a long-drawn sigh of +satisfaction.—“Why, Jacques, my friend, it’s a matter of wonder to me +that you, a free man, without relations or friends to curb you, or +attract you to other parts of the world, should go boating and canoeing +all over the country at the beck of the fur-traders, when you might +come and pitch your tent here for ever!” + +“For ever!” echoed Jacques. + +“Well, I mean as long as you live in this world.” + +“Ah, master,” rejoined the guide, in a sad tone of voice, “it’s just +because I have neither kith nor kin nor friends to draw me to any +partic’lar spot on arth, that I don’t care to settle down in this one, +beautiful though it be.” + +“True, true,” muttered Harry; “man’s a gregarious animal, there’s no +doubt of that.” + +“Anon?” exclaimed Jacques. + +“I meant to say that man naturally loves company,” replied Harry, +smiling. + +“An’ yit I’ve seen some as didn’t, master; though, to be sure, that was +onnat’ral, and there’s not many o’ them, by good luck. Yes, man’s fond +o’ seein’ the face o’ man.” + +“And woman, too,” interrupted Harry.—“Eh, Hamilton, what say you?— + +‘O woman, in our hours of ease, +Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, +When pain and anguish wring the brow, +A ministering angel thou.’ + + +Alas, Hammy! pain and anguish and every thing else may wring our +unfortunate brows here long enough before woman, ‘lovely woman,’ will +come to our aid. What a rare sight it would be, now, to see even an +ordinary house-maid or cook out here! It would be good for sore eyes. +It seems to me a sort of horrible untruth to say that I’ve not seen a +woman since I left Red River; and yet its a frightful fact, for I don’t +count the copper-coloured nondescripts one meets with hereabouts to be +women at all. I suppose they are, but they don’t look like it.” + +“Don’t be a goose, Harry,” said Hamilton. + +“Certainly not, my friend. If I were under the disagreeable necessity +of being anything but what I am, I should rather be something that is +not in the habit of being shot,” replied the other, paddling with +renewed vigour in order to get rid of some of the superabundant spirits +that the beautiful scene and brilliant weather, acting on a young and +ardent nature, had called forth. + +“Some of these same red-skins,” remarked the guide, “are not such bad +sort o’ women, for all their ill looks. I’ve know’d more than one that +was a first-rate wife an’ a good mother, though it’s true they had +little edication beyond that o’ the woods.” + +“No doubt of it,” replied Harry, laughing gaily. “How shall I keep the +canoe’s head, Jacques?” + +“Right away for the pint that lies jist between you an’ the sun.” + +“Yes; I give them all credit for being excellent wives and mothers, +after a fashion,” resumed Harry. “I’ve no wish to asperse the +characters of the poor Indians; but you must know, Jacques, that +they’re very different from the women that I allude to and of whom +Scott sung. His heroines were of a _very_ different stamp and colour!” + +“Did _he_ sing of niggers?” inquired Jacques, simply. + +“Of niggers!” shouted Harry, looking over his shoulder at Hamilton, +with a broad grin; “no, Jacques, not exactly of niggers—” + +“Hist!” exclaimed the guide, with that peculiar subdued energy that at +once indicates an unexpected discovery, and enjoins caution, while at +the same moment, by a deep, powerful back-stroke of his paddle, he +suddenly checked the rapid motion of the canoe. + +Harry and his friend glanced quickly over their shoulders with a look +of surprise. + +“What’s in the wind now?” whispered the former. + +“Stop paddling, masters, and look ahead at the rock yonder, jist under +the tall cliff. There’s a bear a-sittin’ there, and if we can only get +ashore afore he sees us, we’re sartin sure of him.” + +As the guide spoke, he slowly edged the canoe towards the shore, while +the young men gazed with eager looks in the direction indicated, where +they beheld what appeared to be the decayed stump of an old tree or a +mass of brown rock. While they strained their eyes to see it more +clearly, the object altered its form and position. + +“So it is,” they exclaimed simultaneously, in a tone that was +equivalent to the remark, “Now we believe, because we see it.” + +In a few seconds the bow of the canoe touched the land, so lightly as +to be quite inaudible, and Harry, stepping gently over the side, drew +it forward a couple of feet, while his companions disembarked. + +“Now, Mister Harry,” said the guide, as he slung a powder-horn and +shot-belt over his shoulder, “we’ve no need to circumvent the beast, +for he’s circumvented himself.” + +“How so?” inquired the other, drawing the shot from his fowling-piece, +and substituting in its place a leaden bullet. + +Jacques led the way through the somewhat thinly scattered underwood as +he replied, “You see, Mister Harry, the place where he’s gone to sun +hisself is just at the foot o’ a sheer precipice, which runs round +ahead of him and juts out into the water, so that he’s got three ways +to choose between. He must clamber up the precipice, which will take +him some time, I guess, if he can do it at all; or he must take to the +water, which he don’t like, and won’t do if he can help it; or he must +run out the way he went in, but as we shall go to meet him by the same +road, he’ll have to break our ranks before he gains the woods, an’ +_that_’ll be no easy job.” + +The party soon reached the narrow pass between the lake and the near +end of the cliff, where they advanced with greater caution, and peeping +over the low bushes, beheld Bruin, a large brown fellow, sitting on his +haunches, and rocking himself slowly to and fro, as he gazed +abstractedly at the water. He was scarcely within good shot, but the +cover was sufficiently thick to admit of a nearer approach. + +“Now, Hamilton,” said Harry, in a low whisper, “take the first shot. I +killed the last one, so it’s your turn this time.” + +Hamilton hesitated, but could make no reasonable objection to this, +although his unselfish nature prompted him to let his friend have the +first chance. However, Jacques decided the matter by saying, in a tone +that savoured strongly of command, although it was accompanied with a +good-humoured smile,— + +“Go for’ard, young man; but you may as well put in the primin’ first.” + +Poor Hamilton hastily rectified this oversight with a deep blush, at +the same time muttering that he never _would_ make a hunter; and then +advanced cautiously through the bushes, slowly followed at a short +distance by his companions. + +On reaching the bush within seventy yards of the bear, Hamilton pushed +the twigs aside with the muzzle of his gun; his eye flashed and his +courage mounted as he gazed at the truly formidable animal before him, +and he felt more of the hunter’s spirit within him at that moment than +he would have believed possible a few minutes before. Unfortunately, a +hunter’s spirit does not necessarily imply a hunter’s eye or hand. +Having, with much care and long time, brought his piece to bear exactly +where he supposed the brute’s heart should be, he observed that the gun +was on half-cock, by nearly breaking the trigger in his convulsive +efforts to fire. By the time that this error was rectified, Bruin, who +seemed to feel intuitively that some imminent danger threatened him, +rose, and began to move about uneasily, which so alarmed the young +hunter lest he should lose his shot that he took a hasty aim, fired, +and _missed._ Harry asserted afterwards that he even missed the cliff! +On hearing the loud report, which rolled in echoes along the precipice, +Bruin started, and looking round with an undecided air, saw Harry step +quietly from the bushes, and fire, sending a ball into his flank. This +decided him. With a fierce growl of pain, he scampered towards the +water; then changing his mind, he wheeled round, and dashed at the +cliff, up which he scrambled with wonderful speed. + +“Come, Mister Hamilton, load again; quick, I’ll have to do the job +myself, I fear,” said Jacques, as he leaned quietly on his long gun, +and with a half-pitying smile watched the young man, who madly essayed +to recharge his piece more rapidly than it was possible for mortal man +to do. Meanwhile, Harry had reloaded and fired again; but owing to the +perturbation of his young spirits, and the frantic efforts of the bear +to escape, he missed. Another moment, and the animal would actually +have reached the top, when Jacques hastily fired, and brought it +tumbling down the precipice. Owing to the position of the animal at the +time he fired, the wound was not mortal; and foreseeing that Bruin +would now become the aggressor, the hunter began rapidly to reload, at +the same time retreating with his companions, who in their excitement +had forgotten to recharge their pieces. On reaching level ground, Bruin +rose, shook himself, gave a yell of anger on beholding his enemies, and +rushed at them. + +It was a fine sight to behold the bearing of Jacques at this critical +juncture. Accustomed to bear-hunting from his youth, and utterly +indifferent to consequences when danger became imminent, he saw at a +glance the probabilities of the case. He knew exactly how long it would +take him to load his gun, and regulated his pace so as not to interfere +with that operation. His features wore their usual calm expression. +Every motion of his hands was quick and sudden, yet not hurried, but +performed in a way that led the beholder irresistibly to imagine that +he would have done it even more rapidly if necessary. On reaching a +ledge of rock that overhung the lake a few feet he paused and wheeled +about; click went the dog-head, just as the bear rose to grapple with +him; another moment, and a bullet passed through the brute’s heart, +while the bold hunter sprang lightly on one side, to avoid the dash of +the falling animal. As he did so, young Hamilton, who had stood a +little behind him with an uplifted axe, ready to finish the work should +Jacques’s fire prove ineffective, received Bruin in his arms, and +tumbled along with him over the rock, headlong into the water, from +which, however, he speedily arose unhurt, sputtering and coughing, and +dragging the dead bear to the shore. + +“Well done, Hammy,” shouted Harry, indulging in a prolonged peal of +laughter when he ascertained that his friend’s adventure had cost him +nothing more than a ducking; “that was the most amicable, loving plunge +I ever saw.” + +“Better a cold bath in the arms of a dead bear than an embrace on dry +land with a live one,” retorted Hamilton, as he wrung the water out of +his dripping garments. + +“Most true, O sagacious diver! But the sooner we get a fire made the +better; so come along.” + +While the two friends hastened up to the woods to kindle a fire, +Jacques drew his hunting-knife, and, with doffed coat and upturned +sleeves, was soon busily employed in divesting the bear of his natural +garment. The carcass, being valueless in a country where game of a more +palatable kind was plentiful, they left behind as a feast to the +wolves. After this was accomplished and the clothes dried, they +re-embarked, and resumed their journey, plying the paddles +energetically in silence, as their adventure had occasioned a +considerable loss of time. + +It was late, and the stars had looked down for a full hour into the +profound depths of the now dark lake ere the party reached the ground +at the other side of the point, on which Jacques had resolved to +encamp. Being somewhat wearied, they spent but little time in +discussing supper, and partook of that meal with a degree of energy +that implied a sense of duty as well as of pleasure. Shortly after, +they were buried in repose, under the scanty shelter of their canoe. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +An unexpected meeting, and an unexpected deer-hunt—Arrival at the +outpost—Disagreement with the natives—An enemy discovered, and a +murder. + + +Next morning they rose with the sun, and therefore also with the birds +and beasts. + +A wide traverse of the lake now lay before them. This they crossed in +about two hours, during which time they paddled unremittingly, as the +sky looked rather lowering, and they were well aware of the danger of +being caught in a storm in such an egg-shell craft as an Indian canoe. + +“We’ll put in here now, Mister Harry,” exclaimed Jacques, as the canoe +entered the mouth of one of these small rivulets which are called in +Scotland _burns_, and in America _creeks_; “it’s like that your +appetite is sharpened after a spell like that. Keep her head a little +more to the left—straight for the p’int—so. It’s likely we’ll get some +fish here if we set the net.” + +“I say, Jacques, is yon a cloud or a wreath of smoke above the trees in +the creek?” inquired Harry, pointing with his paddle towards the object +referred to. + +“It’s smoke, master; I’ve seed it for some time, and mayhap we’ll find +some Injins there who can give us news of the traders at Stoney Creek.” + +“And pray, how far do you think we may now be from that place?” +inquired Harry. + +“Forty miles, more or less.” + +As he spoke the canoe entered the shallow water of the creek, and began +to ascend the current of the stream, which at its mouth was so sluggish +as to be scarcely perceptible to the eye. Not so, however, to the arms. +The light bark, which while floating on the lake had glided buoyantly +forward as if it were itself consenting to the motion, had now become +apparently imbued with a spirit of contradiction, bounding convulsively +forward at each stroke of the paddles, and perceptibly losing speed at +each interval. Directing their course towards a flat rock on the left +bank of the stream, they ran the prow out of the water and leaped +ashore. As they did so the unexpected figure of a man issued from the +bushes, and sauntered towards the spot. Harry and Hamilton advanced to +meet him, while Jacques remained to unload the canoe. The stranger was +habited in the usual dress of a hunter, and carried a fowling piece +over his right shoulder. In general appearance he looked like an +Indian; but though the face was burned by exposure to a hue that nearly +equalled the red skins of the natives, a strong dash of pink in it, and +the mass of fair hair that encircled it, proved that as Harry +paradoxically expressed it, its owner was a _white_ man. He was young, +considerably above the middle height, and apparently athletic. His +address and language on approaching the young men put the question of +his being a _white_ man beyond a doubt. + +“Good-morning, gentlemen,” he began. “I presume that you are the party +we have been expecting for some time past to reinforce our staff at +Stoney Creek. Is it not so?” + +To this query young Somerville, who stood in advance of his friend, +made no reply, but stepping hastily forward, laid a hand on each of the +stranger’s shoulders, and gazed earnestly into his face, exclaiming as +he did so,— + +“Do my eyes deceive me? Is Charley Kennedy before me—or his ghost?” + +“What! eh,” exclaimed the individual thus addressed, returning Harry’s +gripe and stare with interest, “is it possible? no—it cannot—Harry +Somerville, my old, dear, unexpected friend!”—and pouring out broken +sentences, abrupt ejaculations, and incoherent questions, to which +neither vouchsafed replies, the two friends gazed at and walked round +each other, shook hands, partially embraced, and committed sundry other +extravagances, utterly unconscious of or indifferent to the fact that +Hamilton was gazing at them, open-mouthed, in a species of stupor, and +that Jacques was standing by, regarding them with a look of mingled +amusement and satisfaction. The discovery of this latter personage was +a source of renewed delight and astonishment to Charley, who was so +much upset by the commotion of his spirits, in consequence of this, so +to speak, double shot, that he became rambling and incoherent in his +speech during the remainder of that day, and gave vent to frequent and +sudden bursts of smothered enthusiasm, in which it would appear, from +the occasional muttering of the names of Redfeather and Jacques, that +he not only felicitated himself on his own good fortune, but also +anticipated renewed pleasure in witnessing the joyful meeting of these +two worthies ere long. In fact, this meeting did take place on the +following day, when Redfeather, returning from a successful hunt, with +part of a deer on his shoulders, entered Charley’s tent, in which the +travellers had spent the previous day and night, and discovered the +guide gravely discussing a venison steak before the fire. + +It would be vain to attempt a description of all that the reunited +friends said and did during the first twenty-four hours after their +meeting: how they talked of old times, as they lay extended round the +fire inside of Charley’s tent, and recounted their adventures by flood +and field since they last met; how they sometimes diverged into +questions of speculative philosophy (as conversations _will_ often +diverge, whether we wish it or not), and broke short off to make sudden +inquiries after old friends; how this naturally led them to talk of new +friends and new scenes, until they began to forecast their eyes a +little into the future; and how, on feeling that this was an +uncongenial theme under present circumstances, they reverted again to +the past, and by a peculiar train of conversation—to retrace which were +utterly impossible—they invariably arrived at _old_ times again. Having +in course of the evening pretty well exhausted their powers, both +mental and physical, they went to sleep on it, and resumed the +colloquial _mélange_ in the morning. + +“And now tell me, Charley, what you are doing in this uninhabited part +of the world, so far from Stoney Creek,” said Harry Somerville, as they +assembled round the fire to breakfast. + +“That is soon explained,” replied Charley. “My good friend and +superior, Mr. Whyte, having got himself comfortably housed at Stoney +Creek, thought it advisable to establish a sort of half outpost, half +fishing-station about twenty miles below the new fort, and believing +(very justly) that my talents lay a good deal in the way of fishing and +shooting, sent me to superintend it during the summer months. I am, +therefore, at present monarch of that notable establishment, which is +not yet dignified with a name. Hearing that there were plenty of deer +about twenty miles below my palace, I resolved the other day to gratify +my love of sport, and at the same time procure some venison for Stoney +Creek; accordingly, I took Redfeather with me, and—here I am.” + +“Very good,” said Harry; “and can you give us the least idea of what +they are going to do with my friend Hamilton and me when they get us?” + +“Can’t say. One of you, at any rate, will be kept at the creek, to +assist Mr. Whyte; the other may, perhaps, be appointed to relieve me at +the fishing for a time, while _I_ am sent off to push the trade in +other quarters. But I’m only guessing. I don’t know anything +definitely, for Mr. Whyte is by no means communicative.” + +“An’ please, master,” put in Jacques, “when do you mean to let us off +from this place? I guess the bourgeois won’t be over pleased if we +waste time here.” + +“We’ll start this forenoon, Jacques. I and Redfeather shall go along +with you, as I intended to take a run up to the creek about this time +at any rate.—Have you the skins and dried meat packed, Redfeather?” + +To this the Indian replied in the affirmative, and the others having +finished breakfast, the whole party rose to prepare for departure, and +set about loading their canoes forthwith. An hour later they were again +cleaving the waters of the lake, with this difference in arrangement, +that Jacques was transferred to Redfeather’s canoe, while Charley +Kennedy took his place in the stern of that occupied by Harry and +Hamilton. + +The establishment of which our friend Charley pronounced himself +absolute monarch, and at which they arrived in the course of the same +afternoon, consisted of two small log houses or huts, constructed in +the rudest fashion, and without any attempt whatever at architectural +embellishment. It was pleasantly situated on a small bay, whose +northern extremity was sheltered from the arctic blast by a gentle +rising ground clothed with wood. A miscellaneous collection of fishing +apparatus lay scattered about in front of the buildings, and two men +and an Indian woman were the inhabitants of the place; the king +himself, when present, and his prime minister, Redfeather, being the +remainder of the population. + +“Pleasant little kingdom that of yours, Charley,” remarked Harry +Somerville, as they passed the station. + +“Very,” was the laconic reply. + +They had scarcely passed the place above a mile, when a canoe, +containing a solitary Indian, was observed to shoot out from the shore +and paddle hastily towards them. From this man they learned that a herd +of deer was passing down towards the lake, and would be on its banks in +a few minutes. He had been waiting their arrival when the canoes came +in sight, and induced him to hurry out so as to give them warning. +Having no time to lose, the whole party now paddled swiftly for the +shore, and reached it just a few minutes before the branching antlers +of the deer came in sight above the low bushes that skirted the wood. +Harry Somerville embarked in the bow of the strange Indian’s canoe, so +as to lighten the other and enable all parties to have a fair chance. +After snuffing the breeze for a few seconds, the foremost animal took +the water, and commenced swimming towards the opposite shore of the +lake, which at this particular spot was narrow. It was followed by +seven others. After sufficient time was permitted to elapse to render +their being cut off, in an attempt to return, quite certain, the three +canoes darted from the shelter of the overhanging bushes, and sprang +lightly over the water in pursuit. + +“Don’t hurry, and strike sure,” cried Jacques to his young friends, as +they came up with the terrified deer that now swam for their lives. + +“Ay, ay,” was the reply. + +In another moment they shot in among the struggling group. Harry +Somerville stood up, and seizing the Indian’s spear, prepared to +strike, while his companions directed their course towards others of +the herd. A few seconds sufficed to bring him up with it. Leaning +backwards a little, so as to give additional force to the blow, he +struck the spear deep into the animal’s back. With a convulsive +struggle, it ceased to swim, its head slowly sank, and in another +second it lay dead upon the water. “Without waiting a moment, the +Indian immediately directed the canoe towards another deer; while the +remainder of the party, now considerably separated from each other, +despatched the whole herd by means of axes and knives. + +“Ha!” exclaimed Jacques, as they towed their booty to the shore, +“that’s a good stock o’ meat, Mister Charles. It will help to furnish +the larder for the winter pretty well.” + +“It was much wanted, Jacques: we’ve a good many mouths to feed, besides +_treating_ the Indians now and then. And this fellow, I think, will +claim the most of our hunt as his own. We should not have got the deer +but for him.” + +“True, true, Mister Charles. They belong to the red-skin by rights, +that’s sartin.” + +After this exploit, another night was passed under the trees; and at +noon on the day following they ran their canoe alongside the wooden +wharf at Stoney Creek. + +“Good-day to you, gentlemen,” said Mr. Whyte to Harry and Hamilton as +they landed; “I’ve been looking out for you these two weeks past. Glad +you’ve come at last, however. Plenty to do, and no time to lose. You +have despatches, of course. Ah! that’s right.” (Harry drew a sealed +packet from his bosom and presented it with a bow), “that’s right. I +must peruse these at once.—Mr. Kennedy, you will show these gentlemen +their quarters. We dine in half-an-hour.” So saying, Mr. Whyte thrust +the packet into his pocket, and without further remark strode towards +his dwelling; while Charley, as instructed, led his friends to their +new residence—not forgetting, however, to charge Redfeather to see to +the comfortable lodgment of Jacques Caradoc. + +“Now it strikes me,” remarked Harry, as he sat down on the edge of +Charley’s bed and thrust his hands doggedly down into his pockets, +while Hamilton tucked up his sleeves and assaulted a washhand-basin +which stood on an unpainted wooden chair in a corner—“it strikes me +that if _that’s_ his usual style of behaviour, old Whyte is a pleasure +that we didn’t anticipate.” + +“Don’t judge from first impressions; they’re often deceptive,” +spluttered Hamilton, pausing in his ablutions to look at his friend +through a mass of soap-suds—an act which afterwards caused him a good +deal of pain and a copious flow of unbidden tears. + +“Right,” exclaimed Charley, with an approving nod to Hamilton.—“You +must not judge him prematurely, Harry. He’s a good-hearted fellow at +bottom; and if he once takes a liking for you, he’ll go through fire +and water to serve you, as I know from experience.” + +“Which means to say _three_ things,” replied the implacable Harry: +“first, that for all his good-heartedness _at bottom,_ he never shows +any of it _at top,_ and is therefore like unto truth, which is said to +lie at the bottom of a well—so deep, in fact, that it is never got out, +and so is of use to nobody; secondly, that he is possessed of that +amount of affection which is common to all mankind (to a great extent +even to brutes), which prompts a man to be reasonably attentive to his +friends; and thirdly, that you, Master Kennedy, enjoy the peculiar +privilege of being the friend of a two-legged polar bear!” + +“Were I not certain that you jest,” retorted Kennedy, “I would compel +you to apologize to me for insulting my friend, you rascal! But see, +here’s the cook coming to tell us that dinner waits. If you don’t wish +to see the teeth of the polar bear, I’d advise you to be smart.” + +Thus admonished, Harry sprang up, plunged his hands and face in the +basin and dried them, broke Charley’s comb in attempting to pass it +hastily through his hair, used his fingers savagely as a substitute, +and overtook his companions just as they entered the mess-room. + +The establishment of Stoney Creek was comprised within two acres of +ground. It consisted of eight or nine houses—three of which, however, +alone met the eye on approaching by the lake. The “great” house, as it +was termed, on account of its relative proportion to the other +buildings, was a small edifice, built substantially but roughly of +unsquared logs, partially whitewashed, roofed with shingles, and +boasting six small windows in front, with a large door between them. On +its east side, and at right angles to it, was a similar edifice, but +smaller, having two doors instead of one, and four windows instead of +six. This was the trading-shop and provision-store. Opposite to this +was a twin building which contained the furs and a variety of +miscellaneous stores. Thus were formed three sides of a square, from +the centre of which rose a tall flagstaff. The buildings behind those +just described were smaller and insignificant—the principal one being +the house appropriated to the men; the others were mere sheds and +workshops. Luxuriant forests ascended the slopes that rose behind and +encircled this oasis on all sides, excepting in front, where the clear +waters of the lake sparkled like a blue mirror. + +On the margin of this lake the new arrivals, left to enjoy themselves +as they best might for a day or two, sauntered about and chatted to +their heart’s content of things past, present, and future. + +During these wanderings, Harry confessed that his opinion of Mr. Whyte +had somewhat changed; that he believed a good deal of the first bad +impressions was attributable to his cool, not to say impolite, +reception of them; and that he thought things would go on much better +with the Indians if he would only try to let some of his good qualities +be seen through his exterior. + +An expression of sadness passed over Charley’s face as his friend said +this. + +“You are right in the last particular,” he said, with a sigh. “Mr. +Whyte is so rough and overbearing that the Indians are beginning to +dislike him. Some of the more clear-sighted among them see that a good +deal of this lies in mere manner, and have penetration enough to +observe that in all his dealings with them he is straightforward and +liberal; but there are a set of them who either don’t see this, or are +so indignant at the rough speeches he often makes, and the rough +treatment he sometimes threatens, that they won’t forgive him, but seem +to be nursing their wrath. I sometimes wish he was sent to a district +where the Indians and traders are, from habitual intercourse, more +accustomed to each other’s ways, and so less likely to quarrel.” + +“Have the Indians, then, used any open threats?” asked Harry. + +“No, not exactly; but through an old man of the tribe, who is well +affected towards us, I have learned that there is a party among them +who seem bent on mischief.” + +“Then we may expect a row some day or other. That’s pleasant!—What +think you, Hammy?” said Harry, turning to his friend. + +“I think that it would be anything but pleasant,” he replied; “and I +sincerely hope that we shall not have occasion for a row.” + +“You’re not afraid of a fight, are you, Hamilton?” asked Charley. + +The peculiarly bland smile with which Hamilton usually received any +remark that savoured of banter overspread his features as Charley +spoke, but he merely replied— + +“No, Charley, I’m not afraid.” + +“Do you know any of the Indians who are so anxious to vent their spleen +on our worthy bourgeois?” asked Harry, as he seated himself on a rocky +eminence commanding a view of the richly-wooded slopes, dotted with +huge masses of rock that had fallen from the beetling cliffs behind the +creek. + +“Yes, I do,” replied Charley; “and, by the way, one of them—the +ringleader—is a man with whom you are acquainted, at least by name. +You’ve heard of an Indian called Misconna?” + +“What!” exclaimed Harry, with a look of surprise; “you don’t mean the +blackguard mentioned by Redfeather, long ago, when he told us his story +on the shores of Lake Winnipeg—the man who killed poor Jacques’s young +wife?” + +“The same,” replied Charley. + +“And does Jacques know he is here?” + +“He does; but Jacques is a strange, unaccountable mortal. You remember +that in the struggle described by Redfeather, the trapper and Misconna +had neither of them seen each other, Redfeather having felled the +latter before the former reached the scene of action—a scene which, he +has since told me, he witnessed at a distance, while rushing to the +rescue of his wife-so that Misconna is utterly ignorant of the fact +that the husband of his victim is now so near him; indeed, he does not +know that she had a husband at all. On the other hand, although Jacques +is aware that his bitterest enemy is within rifle-range of him at this +moment, he does not know him by sight; and this morning he came to me, +begging that I would send Misconna on some expedition or other, just to +keep him out of his way.” + +“And do you intend to do so?” + +“I shall do my best,” replied Charley; “but I cannot get him out of the +way till to-morrow, as there is to be a gathering of Indians in the +hall this very day, to have a palaver with Mr. Whyte about their +grievances, and Misconna wouldn’t miss that for a trifle. But Jacques +won’t be likely to recognise him among so many; and if he does, I rely +with confidence on his powers of restraint and forbearance. By the +way,” he continued, glancing upwards, “it is past noon, and the Indians +will have begun to assemble, so we had better hasten back, as we shall +be expected to help in keeping order.” + +So saying, he rose, and the young men returned to the fort. On reaching +it they found the hall crowded with natives, who sat cross-legged +around the walls, or stood in groups conversing in low tones, and to +judge from the expression of their dark eyes and lowering brows, they +were in extremely bad humour. They became silent and more respectful, +however, in their demeanour when the young men entered the apartment +and walked up to the fireplace, in which a small fire of wood burned on +the hearth, more as a convenient means of rekindling the pipes of the +Indians when they went out than as a means of heating the place. +Jacques and Redfeather stood leaning against the wall near to it, +engaged in a whispered conversation. Glancing round as he entered, +Charley observed Misconna sitting a little apart by himself, and +apparently buried in deep thought. He had scarcely perceived him, and +nodded to several of his particular friends among the crowd, when a +side-door opened, and Mr. Whyte, with an angry expression on his +countenance, strode up to the fireplace, planted himself before it, +with his legs apart and his hands behind him, while he silently +surveyed the group. + +“So,” he began, “you have asked to speak with me; well, here I am. What +have you to say?” + +Mr. Whyte addressed the Indians in their native tongue, having, during +a long residence in the country, learned to speak it as fluently as +English. + +For some moments there was silence. Then an old chief—the same who had +officiated at the feast described in a former chapter—rose, and +standing forth into the middle of the room, made a long and grave +oration, in which, besides a great deal that was bombastic, much that +was irrelevant, and more that was utterly fabulous and nonsensical, he +recounted the sorrows of himself and his tribe, concluding with a +request that the great chief would take these things into +consideration—the principal _“things”_ being that they did not get +anything in the shape of gratuities, while it was notorious that the +Indians in other districts did, and that they did not get enough of +goods in advance, on credit of their future hunts. + +Mr. Whyte heard the old man to the end in silence: then, without +altering his position, he looked round on the assembly with a frown, +and said, “Now listen to me; I am a man of few words. I have told you +over and over again, and I now repeat it, that you shall get no +gratuities until you prove yourselves worthy of them. I shall not +increase your advances by so much as half an inch of tobacco till your +last year’s debts are scored off, and you begin to show more activity +in hunting and less disposition to grumble. Hitherto you have not +brought in anything like the quantity of furs that the capabilities of +the country led me to expect. You are lazy. Until you become better +hunters you shall have no redress from me.” + +As he finished, Mr. Whyte made a step towards the door by which he had +entered, but was arrested by another chief, who requested to be heard. +Resuming his place and attitude, Mr. Whyte listened with an expression +of dogged determination, while guttural grunts of unequivocal +dissatisfaction issued from the throats of several of the malcontents. +The Indian proceeded to repeat a few of the remarks made by his +predecessor, but more concisely, and wound up by explaining that the +failure in the hunts of the previous year was owing to the will of the +Great Manito, and not by any means on account of the supposed laziness +of himself or his tribe. + +“That is false,” said Mr. Whyte; “you know it is not true.” + +As this was said, a murmur of anger ran round the apartment, which was +interrupted by Misconna, who, apparently unable to restrain his +passion, sprang into the middle of the room, and confronting Mr. Whyte, +made a short and pithy speech, accompanied by violent gesticulation, in +which he insinuated that if redress was not granted the white men would +bitterly repent it. + +During his speech the Indians had risen to their feet and drawn closer +together, while Jacques and the three young men drew near their +superior. Redfeather remained apart, motionless, and with his eyes +fixed on the ground. + +“And, pray, what dog—what miserable thieving cur are you, who dare to +address me thus?” cried Mr. Whyte, as he strode, with flashing eyes, up +to the enraged Indian. + +Misconna clinched his teeth, and his fingers worked convulsively about +the handle of his knife, as he exclaimed, “I am no dog. The pale-faces +are dogs. I am a great chief. My name is known among the braves of my +tribe. It is Misconna—” + +As the name fell from his lips, Mr. Wiryte and Charley were suddenly +dashed aside, and Jacques sprang towards the Indian, his face livid, +his eyeballs almost bursting from their sockets, and his muscles rigid +with passion. For an instant he regarded the savage intently as he +shrank appalled before him; then his colossal fist fell like lightning, +with the weight of a sledge-hammer, on Misconna’s forehead, and drove +him against the outer door, which, giving way before the violent shock, +burst from its fastenings and hinges, and fell, along with the savage, +with a loud crash to the ground. + +For an instant everyone stood aghast at this precipitate termination to +the discussion, and then, springing forward in a body, with drawn +knives, the Indians rushed upon the white men, who in a close phalanx, +with such weapons as came first to hand, stood to receive them. At this +moment Redfeather stepped forward unarmed between the belligerents, +and, turning to the Indians, said— + +“Listen: Redfeather does not take the part of his white friends against +his comrades. You know that he never failed you in the war-path, and he +would not fail you now if your cause were just. But the eyes of his +comrades are shut. Redfeather knows what they do not know. The white +hunter” (pointing to Jacques) “is a friend of Redfeather. He is a +friend of the Knisteneux. He did not strike because you disputed with +his bourgeois; he struck because Misconna _is his mortal foe_. But the +story is long. Redfeather will tell it at the council fire.” + +“He is right,” exclaimed Jacques, who had recovered his usual grave +expression of countenance; “Redfeather is right. I bear you no +ill-will, Injins, and I shall explain the thing myself at your council +fire.” + +As Jacques spoke the Indians sheathed their knives, and stood with +frowning brows, as if uncertain what to do. The unexpected interference +of their comrade-in-arms, coupled with his address and that of Jacques, +had excited their curiosity. Perhaps the undaunted deportment of their +opponents, who stood ready for the encounter with a look of stern +determination, contributed a little to allay their resentment. + +While the two parties stood thus confronting each other, as if +uncertain how to act, a loud report was heard just outside the doorway. +In another moment Mr. Whyte fell heavily to the ground, shot through +the heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +The chase—The fight—Retribution—Low spirits and good news. + + +The tragical end of the consultation related in the last chapter had +the effect of immediately reconciling the disputants. With the +exception of four or five of the most depraved and discontented among +them, the Indians bore no particular ill-will to the unfortunate +principal of Stoney Creek; and although a good deal disappointed to +find that he was a stern, unyielding trader, they had, in reality, no +intention of coming to a serious rupture with him, much less of laying +violent hands either upon master or men of the establishment. + +When, therefore, they beheld Mr. Whyte weltering in his blood at their +feet, a sacrifice to the ungovernable passion of Misconna, who was by +no means a favourite among his brethren, their temporary anger was +instantly dissipated, and a feeling of deepest indignation roused in +their bosoms against the miserable assassin who had perpetrated the +base and cowardly murder. It was, therefore, with a yell of rage that +several of the band, immediately after the victim fell, sprang into the +woods in hot pursuit of him, whom they now counted their enemy. They +were joined by several men belonging to the fort, who had hastened to +the scene of action on hearing that the people in the hall were likely +to come to blows. Redfeather was the first who had bounded like a deer +into the woods in pursuit of the fugitive. Those who remained assisted +Charley and his friends to convey the body of Mr. Whyte into an +adjoining room, where they placed him on a bed. He was quite dead, the +murderer’s aim having been terribly true. + +Finding that he was past all human aid, the young men returned to the +hall, which they entered just as Redfeather glided quickly through the +open doorway, and, approaching the group, stood in silence beside them, +with his arms folded on his breast. + +“You have something to tell, Redfeather,” said Jacques, in a subdued +tone, after regarding him a few seconds. “Is the scoundrel caught?” + +“Misconna’s foot is swift,” replied the Indian, “and the wood is thick. +It is wasting time to follow him through the bushes.” + +“What would you advise then?” exclaimed Charley, in a hurried voice. “I +see that you have some plan to propose.” + +“The wood is thick,” answered Redfeather, “but the lake and the river +are open. Let one party go by the lake, and one party by the river.” + +“That’s it, that’s it, Injin,” interrupted Jacques, energetically; +“your wits are always jumpin’. By crosin’ over to Duck River, we can +start at a point five or six miles above the lower fall, an’ as it’s +thereabouts he must cross, we’ll be time enough to catch him. If he +tries the lake, the other party’ll fix him there; and he’ll be soon +poked up if he tries to hide in the bush.” + +“Come, then; we’ll all give chase at once,” cried Charley, feeling a +temporary relief in the prospect of energetic action from the +depressing effects of the calamity that had so suddenly befallen him in +the loss of his chief and friend. + +Little time was needed for preparation. Jacques, Charley, and Harry +proceeded by the river; while Redfeather and Hamilton, with a couple of +men, launched their canoe on the lake and set off in pursuit. + +Crossing the country for about a mile, Jacques led his party to the +point on the Duck River to which he had previously referred. Here they +found two canoes, into one of which the guide stepped with one of the +men, a Canadian, who had accompanied them, while Harry and Charley +embarked in the other. In a few minutes they were rapidly descending +the stream. + +“How do you mean to act, Jacques?” inquired Charley, as he paddled +alongside of the guide’s canoe. “Is it not likely that Misconna may +have crossed the river already? in which case we shall have no chance +of catching him.” + +“Niver fear,” returned Jacques. “He must have longer legs than most men +if he gets to the flat-rock fall before us, an’ as that’s the spot +where he’ll nat’rally cross the river, being the only straight line for +the hills that escapes the bend o’ the bay to the south o’ Stoney +Creek, we’re pretty sartin to stop him there.” + +“True; but that being, as you say, the _natural_ route, don’t you think +it likely he’ll expect that it will be guarded, and avoid it +accordingly?” + +“He _would_ do so, Mister Charles, if he thought we were _here_; but +there are two reasons agin this. He thinks that he’s got the start o’ +us, an’ won’t need to double by way o’ deceivin’ us; and then he knows +that the whole tribe is after him, and consekintly won’t take a long +road when there’s a short one, if he can help it. But here’s the rock. +Look out, Mister Charles. We’ll have to run the fall, which isn’t very +big just now, and then hide in the bushes at the foot of it till the +blackguard shows himself. Keep well to the right an’ don’t mind the big +rock; the rush o’ water takes you clear o’ that without trouble.” + +With this concluding piece of advice, he pointed to the fall, which +plunged over a ledge of rock about half-a-mile ahead of them, and which +was distinguishable by a small column of white spray that rose out of +it. As Charley beheld it his spirits rose, and forgetting for a moment +the circumstances that called him there, he cried out— + +“I’ll run it before you, Jacques. Hurrah! Give way, Harry!” and in +spite of a remonstrance from the guide, he shot the canoe ahead, gave +vent to another reckless shout, and flew, rather than glided, down the +stream. On seeing this, the guide held back, so as to give him +sufficient time to take the plunge ere he followed. A few strokes +brought Charley’s canoe to the brink of the fall, and Harry was just in +the act of raising himself in the bow to observe the position of the +rocks, when a shout was heard on the bank close beside them. Looking up +they beheld an Indian emerge from the forest, fit an arrow to his bow, +and discharge it at them. The winged messenger was truly aimed; it +whizzed through the air and transfixed Harry Somerville’s left shoulder +just at the moment they swept over the fall. The arrow completely +incapacitated Harry from using his arm, so that the canoe, instead of +being directed into the broad current, took a sudden turn, dashed in +among a mass of broken rocks, between which the water foamed with +violence, and upset. Here the canoe stuck fast, while its owners stood +up to their waists in the water, struggling to set it free—an object +which they were the more anxious to accomplish that its stern lay +directly in the spot where Jacques would infallibly descend. The next +instant their fears were realised. The second canoe glided over the +cataract, dashed violently against the first, and upset, leaving +Jacques and his man in a similar predicament. By their aid, however, +the canoes were more easily righted, and embarking quickly they shot +forth again, just as the Indian, who had been obliged to make a detour +in order to get within range of their position, reappeared on the banks +above, and sent another shaft after them—fortunately, however, without +effect. + +“This is unfortunate,” muttered Jacques, as the party landed and +endeavoured to wring some of the water from their dripping clothes; +“an’ the worst of it is that our guns are useless after sich a duckin’, +an’ the varmint knows that, an’ will be down on us in a twinklin’.” + +“But we are four to one,” exclaimed Harry. “Surely we don’t need to +fear much from a single enemy.” + +“Humph!” ejaculated the guide, as he examined the lock of his gun. +“You’ve had little to do with Injins, that’s plain, You may be sure +he’s not alone, an’ the reptile has a bow with arrows enough to send us +all on a pretty long journey. But we’ve the trees to dodge behind. If I +only had _one_ dry charge!” and the disconcerted guide gave a look, +half of perplexity, half of contempt, at the dripping gun. + +“Never mind,” cried Charley; “we have our paddles. But I forgot, Harry, +in all this confusion, that you are wounded, my poor fellow. We must +have it examined before doing anything further.” + +“Oh, it’s nothing at all—a mere scratch, I think; at least I feel very +little pain.” + +As he spoke the twang of a bow was heard, and an arrow flew past +Jacques’s ear. + +“Ah, so soon!” exclaimed that worthy, with a look of surprise, as if he +had unexpectedly met with an old friend. Stepping behind a tree, he +motioned to his friends to do likewise; an example which they followed +somewhat hastily on beholding the Indian who had wounded Harry step +from the cover of the underwood and deliberately let fly another arrow, +which passed through the hair of the Canadian they had brought with +them. + +From the several trees behind which they had leaped for shelter they +now perceived that the Indian with the bow was Misconna, and that he +was accompanied by eight others, who appeared, however, to be totally +unarmed; having, probably, been obliged to leave their weapons behind +them, owing to the abruptness of their flight. Seeing that the white +men were unable to use their guns, the Indians assembled in a group, +and from the hasty and violent gesticulations of some of the party, +especially of Misconna, it was evident that a speedy attack was +intended. + +Observing this, Jacques coolly left the shelter of his tree, and going +up to Charley, exclaimed, “Now, Mister Charles, I’m goin’ to run away, +so you’d better come along with me.” + +“That I certainly will not. Why, what do you mean?” inquired the other, +in astonishment. + +“I mean that these stupid red-skins can’t make up their minds what to +do, an’ as I’ve no notion o’ stoppin’ here all day, I want to make them +do what will suit us best. You see, if they scatter through the wood +and attack us on all sides, they may give us a deal o’ trouble, and git +away after all; whereas, if we _run away_, they’ll bolt after us in a +body, and then we can take them in hand all at once, which’ll be more +comfortable-like, an’ easier to manage.” + +As Jacques spoke they were joined by Harry and the Canadian; and being +observed by the Indians thus grouped together, another arrow was sent +among them. + +“Now, follow me,” said Jacques, turning round with a loud howl and +running away. He was closely followed by the others. As the guide had +predicted, the Indians no sooner observed this than they rushed after +them in a body, uttering horrible yells. + +“Now, then; stop here; down with you.” + +Jacques instantly crouched behind a bush, while each of the party did +the same. In a moment the savages came shouting up, supposing the white +men were still running on in advance. As the foremost, a tall, muscular +fellow, with the agility of a panther, bounded over the bush behind +which Jacques was concealed, he was met with a blow from the guide’s +fist, so powerfully delivered into the pit of his stomach that it sent +him violently back into the bush, where he lay insensible. This event, +of course, put a check upon the headlong pursuit of the others, who +suddenly paused, like a group of infuriated tigers unexpectedly baulked +of their prey. The hesitation, however, was but for a moment. Misconna, +who was in advance, suddenly drew his bow again, and let fly an arrow +at Jacques, which the latter dexterously avoided; and while his +antagonist lowered his eyes for an instant to fit another arrow to the +string, the guide, making use of his paddle as a sort of javelin, threw +it with such force and precision that it struck Misconna directly +between the eyes and felled him to the earth, In another instant the +two parties rushed upon each other, and a general _mélée_ ensued, in +which the white men, being greatly superior to their adversaries in the +use of their fists, soon proved themselves more than a match for them +all although inferior in numbers. Charley’s first antagonist, making an +abortive attempt to grapple with him, received two rapid blows, one on +the chest and the other on the nose, which knocked him over the bank +into the river, while his conqueror sprang upon another Indian. Harry, +having unfortunately selected the biggest savage of the band as his +special property, rushed upon him and dealt him a vigorous blow on the +head with his paddle. + +The weapon, however, was made of light wood, and, instead of felling +him to the ground, broke into shivers. Springing upon each other they +immediately engaged in a fierce struggle, in which poor Harry learned, +when too late, that his wounded shoulder was almost powerless. +Meanwhile, the Canadian having been assaulted by three Indians at once, +floored one at the outset, and immediately began an impromptu war-dance +round the other two, dealing them occasionally a kick or a blow, which +would speedily have rendered them _hors de combat_, had they not +succeeded in closing upon him, when all three fell heavily to the +ground. Jacques and Charley having succeeded in overcoming their +respective opponents, immediately hastened to his rescue. In the +meantime, Harry and his foe had struggled to a considerable distance +from the others, gradually edging towards the river’s bank. Feeling +faint from his wound, the former at length sank under the weight of his +powerful antagonist, who endeavoured to thrust him over a kind of cliff +which they had approached. He was on the point of accomplishing his +purpose, when Charley and his friends perceived Harry’s imminent +danger, and rushed to the rescue. Quickly though they ran, however, it +seemed likely that they would be too late. Harry’s head already +overhung the bank, and the Indian was endeavouring to loosen the gripe +of the young man’s hand from his throat, preparatory to tossing him +over, when a wild cry rang through the forest, followed by the reports +of a double-barrelled gun, fired in quick succession. Immediately +after, young Hamilton bounded like a deer down the slope, seized the +Indian by the legs, and tossed him over the cliff, where he turned a +complete somersault in his descent, and fell with a sounding splash +into the water. + +“Well done, cleverly done, lad!” cried Jacques, as he and the rest of +the party came up and crowded round Harry, who lay in a state of +partial stupor on the bank. + +At this moment Redfeather hastily but silently approached; his broad +chest was heaving heavily, and his expanded nostrils quivering with the +exertions he had made to reach the scene of action in time to succour +his friends. + +“Thank God!” said Hamilton softly, as he kneeled beside Harry and +supported his head, while Charley bathed his temples—“thank God that I +have been in time! Fortunately I was walking by the river considerably +in advance of Redfeather, who was bringing up the canoe, when I heard +the sounds of the fray, and hastened to your aid.” + +At this moment Harry opened his eyes, and saying faintly that he felt +better, allowed himself to be raised to a sitting posture, while his +coat was removed and his wound examined. It was found to be a deep +flesh-wound in the shoulder, from which a fragment of the broken arrow +still protruded. + +“It’s a wonder to me, Mr. Harry, how ye held on to that big thief so +long,” muttered Jacques, as he drew out the splinter and bandaged up +the shoulder. Having completed the surgical operation after a rough +fashion, they collected the defeated Indians. Those of them that were +able to walk were bound together by the wrists and marched off to the +fort, under a guard which was strengthened by the arrival of several of +the fur-traders, who had been in pursuit of the fugitives, and were +attracted to the spot by the shouts of the combatants. Harry, and such +of the party as were more or less severely injured, were placed in +canoes and conveyed to Stoney Creek by the lake, into which Duck River +runs at the distance of about half-a-mile from the spot on which the +skirmish had taken place. Misconna was among the latter. + +On arriving at Stoney Creek, the canoe party found a large assemblage +of the natives awaiting them on the wharf, and no sooner did Misconna +land than they advanced to seize him. + +“Keep back, friends,” cried Jacques, who perceived their intentions, +and stepped hastily between them.—“Come here, lads,” he continued, +turning to his companions; “surround Misconna. He is _our_ prisoner, +and must ha’ fair justice done him, accordin’ to white law.” + +They fell back in silence on observing the guide’s determined manner; +but as they hurried the wretched culprit towards the house, one of the +Indians pressed close upon their rear, and before anyone could prevent +him, dashed his tomahawk into Misconna’s brain. Seeing that the blow +was mortal, the traders ceased to offer any further opposition; and the +Indians rushing upon his body, bore it away amid shouts and yells of +execration to their canoes, to one of which the body was fastened by a +rope, and dragged through the water to point of land which jutted out +into the lake near at hand. Here they lighted a fire and burned it to +ashes. + + +There seems to be a period in the history of every one when the fair +aspect of this world is darkened—when everything, whether past, +present, or future, assumes a hue of the deepest gloom; a period when, +for the first time, the sun, which has shone in the mental firmament +with more or less brilliancy from childhood upwards, entirely +disappears behind a cloud of thick darkness, and leaves the soul in a +state of deep melancholy; a time when feelings somewhat akin to despair +pervade us, as we begin gradually to look upon the past as a bright, +happy vision, out of which we have at last awakened to view the sad +realities of the present, and look forward with sinking hope to the +future. Various are the causes which produce this, and diverse the +effects of it on differently constituted minds; but there are few, we +apprehend, who have not passed through the cloud in one or other of its +phases, and who do not feel that this _first_ period of prolonged +sorrow is darker, and heavier, and worse to bear, than many of the more +truly grievous afflictions that sooner or later fall to the lot of most +men. + +Into a state of mind somewhat similar to that which we have endeavoured +to describe, our friend Charley Kennedy fell immediately after the +events just narrated. The sudden and awful death of his friend Mr. +Whyte fell upon his young spirit, unaccustomed as he was to scenes of +bloodshed and violence, with overwhelming power. From the depression, +however, which naturally followed he would probably soon have rallied +had not Harry Somerville’s wound in the shoulder taken an unfavourable +turn, and obliged him to remain for many weeks in bed, under the +influence of a slow fever; so that Charley felt a desolation creeping +over his soul that no effort he was capable of making could shake off. +It is true he found both occupation and pleasure in attending upon his +sick friend; but as Harry’s illness rendered great quiet necessary, and +as Hamilton had been sent to take charge of the fishing-station +mentioned in a former chapter, Charley was obliged to indulge his +gloomy reveries in silence. To add to his wretchedness he received a +letter from Kate about a week after Mr. Whyte’s burial, telling him of +the death of his mother. + +Meanwhile, Redfeather and Jacques—both of whom at their young master’s +earnest solicitation, agreed to winter at Stoney Creek—cultivated each +other’s acquaintance sedulously. There were no books of any kind at the +outpost, excepting three Bibles—one belonging to Charley, and one to +Harry, the third being that which had been presented to Jacques by Mr. +Conway the missionary. This single volume, however, proved to be an +ample library to Jacques and his Indian friend. Neither of these sons +of the forest was much accustomed to reading, and neither of them would +have for a moment entertained the idea of taking to literature as a +pastime; but Redfeather loved the Bible for the sake of the great +truths which he discovered in its inspired pages, though much of what +he read was to him mysterious and utterly incomprehensible. Jacques, on +the other hand, read it, or listened to his friend, with that +philosophic gravity of countenance and earnestness of purpose which he +displayed in regard to everything; and deep, serious, and protracted +were the discussions they entered into, as night after night they sat +on a log, with the Bible spread out before them, and read by the light +of the blazing fire in the men’s house at Stoney Creek. Their +intercourse, however, was brought to an abrupt conclusion by the +unexpected arrival, one day, of Mr. Conway the missionary in his tin +canoe. This gentleman’s appearance was most welcome to all parties. It +was like a bright ray of sunshine to Charley to meet with one who could +fully sympathise with him in his present sorrowful frame of mind. It +was an event of some consequence to Harry Somerville, inasmuch as it +provided him with an amateur doctor who really understood somewhat of +his physical complaint, and was able to pour balm, at once literally +and spiritually, into his wounds. It was an event productive of the +liveliest satisfaction to Redfeather, who now felt assured that his +tribe would have those mysteries explained which he only imperfectly +understood himself; and it was an event of much rejoicing to the +Indians themselves, because their curiosity had been not a little +roused by what they heard of the doings and sayings of the white +missionary, who lived on the borders of the great lake. The only +person, perhaps, on whom Mr. Conway’s arrival acted with other than a +pleasing influence was Jacques Caradoc. This worthy, although glad to +meet with a man whom he felt inclined both to love and respect, was by +no means gratified to find that his friend Redfeather had agreed to go +with the missionary on his visit to the Indian tribe, and thereafter to +accompany him to the settlement on Playgreen Lake. But with the +stoicism that was natural to him, Jacques submitted to circumstances +which he could not alter, and contented himself with assuring +Redfeather that if he lived till next spring he would most certainly +“make tracks for the great lake,” and settle down at the missionary’s +station along with him. This promise was made at the end of the wharf +of Stoney Creek the morning on which Mr. Conway and his party embarked +in their tin canoe—the same tin canoe at which Jacques had curled his +nose contemptuously when he saw it in process of being constructed, and +at which he did not by any means curl it the less contemptuously now +that he saw it finished. The little craft answered its purpose +marvellously well, however, and bounded lightly away under the vigorous +strokes of its crew, leaving Charley and Jacques on the pier gazing +wistfully after their friends, and listening sadly to the echoes of +their parting song as it floated more and more faintly over the lake. + +Winter came, but no ray of sunshine broke through the dark cloud that +hung over Stoney Creek. Harry Somerville, instead of becoming better, +grew worse and worse every day, so that when Charley despatched the +winter packet, he represented the illness of his friend to the powers +at headquarters as being of a nature that required serious and +immediate attention and change of scene. But the word _immediate_ bears +a slightly different signification in the backwoods to what it does in +the lands of railroads and steamboats. The letter containing this hint +took many weeks to traverse the waste wilderness to its destination; +months passed before the reply was written, and many weeks more elapsed +ere its contents were perused by Charley and his friend. When they did +read it, however, the dark cloud that had hung over them so long burst +at last; a ray of sunshine streamed down brightly upon their hearts, +and never forsook them again, although it did lose a little of its +brilliancy after the first flash. It was on a rich, dewy, cheerful +morning in early spring when the packet arrived, and Charley led Harry, +who was slowly recovering his wonted health and spirits, to their +favourite rocky resting-place on the margin of the lake. Here he placed +the letter in his friend’s hand with a smile of genuine delight. It ran +as follows:— + +MY DEAR SIR,—Your letter containing the account of Mr. Somerville’s +illness has been forwarded to me, and I am instructed to inform you +that leave of absence for a short time has been granted to him. I have +had a conversation with the doctor here, who advises me to recommend +that, if your friend has no other summer residence in view, he should +spend part of his time in Red River settlement. In the event of his +agreeing to this, I would suggest that he should leave Stoney Creek +with the first brigade in spring, or by express canoe if you think it +advisable.—I am, etc. + + +“Short but sweet—uncommonly sweet!” said Harry, as a deep flush of joy +crimsoned his pale cheeks, while his own merry smile, that had been +absent for many a weary day, returned once more to its old haunt, and +danced round its accustomed dimples like a repentant wanderer who has +been long absent from and has at last returned to his native home. + +“Sweet indeed!” echoed Charley. “But that’s not all; here’s another +lump of sugar for you.” So saying, he pulled a letter from his pocket, +unfolded it slowly, spread it out on his knee, and, looking up at his +expectant friend, winked. + +“Go on, Charley; pray don’t tantalize me.” + +“Tantalize you! My dear fellow, nothing is farther from my thoughts. +Listen to this paragraph in my dear old father’s letter:— + +“‘So you see, my dear Charley, that we have managed to get you +appointed to the charge of Lower Fort Garry, and as I hear that poor +Harry Somerville is to get leave of absence, you had better bring him +along with you. I need not add that my house is at his service as long +as he may wish to remain in it.’ + +“There! what think ye of that, my boy?” said Charley, as he folded the +letter and returned it to his pocket. + +“I think,” replied Harry, “that your father is a dear old gentleman, +and I hope that you’ll only be half as good when you come to his time +of life; and I think I’m so happy to-day that I’ll be able to walk +without the assistance of your arm to-morrow; and I think we had better +go back to the house now, for I feel, oddly enough, as tired as if I +had had a long walk. Ah, Charley, my dear fellow, that letter will +prove to be the best doctor I have had yet. But now tell me what you +intend to do.” + +Charley assisted his friend to rise, and led him slowly back to the +house, as he replied,— + +“Do, my boy? that’s soon said. I’ll make things square and straight at +Stoney Creek. I’ll send for Hamilton and make him interim +commander-in-chief. I’ll write two letters—one to the gentleman in +charge of the district, telling him of my movements; the other +(containing a screed of formal instructions) to the miserable mortal +who shall succeed me here. I’ll take the best canoe in our store, load +it with provisions, put you carefully in the middle of it, stick +Jacques in the bow and myself in the stern, and start, two weeks hence, +neck and crop, head over heels, through thick and thin, wet and dry, +over portage, river, fall, and lake, for Red River settlement!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +Old friends and scenes—Coming events cast their shadows before. + + +Mr. Kennedy, senior, was seated in his own comfortable arm-chair before +the fire, in his own cheerful little parlour, in his own snug house, at +Red River, with his own highly characteristic breakfast of buffalo +steaks, tea, and pemmican before him, and his own beautiful, +affectionate daughter Kate presiding over the tea-pot, and exercising +unwarrantably despotic sway over a large gray cat, whose sole happiness +seemed to consist in subjecting Mr. Kennedy to perpetual annoyance, and +whose main object in life was to catch its master and mistress off +their guard, that it might go quietly to the table, the meat-safe, or +the pantry, and there—deliberately—steal! + +Kate had grown very much since we saw her last. She was quite a woman +now, and well worthy of a minute description here; but we never could +describe a woman to our own satisfaction. We have frequently tried and +failed; so we substitute, in place, the remarks of Kate’s friends and +acquaintances about her—a criterion on which to form a judgment that is +a pretty correct one, especially when the opinion pronounced happens to +be favourable. Her father said she was an angel, and the only joy of +his life. This latter expression, we may remark, was false; for Mr. +Kennedy frequently said to Kate, confidentially, that Charley was a +great happiness to him; and we are quite sure that the pipe had +something to do with the felicity of his existence. But the old +gentleman said that Kate was the _only_ joy of his life, and that is +all we have to do with at present. Several ill-tempered old ladies in +the settlement said that Miss Kennedy was really a quiet, modest +girl—testimony this (considering the source whence it came) that was +quite conclusive. Then old Mr. Grant remarked to old Mr. Kennedy, over +a confidential pipe, that Kate was certainly, in his opinion, the most +modest and the prettiest girl in Red River. Her old school companions +called her a darling. Tom Whyte said “he never seed nothink like her +nowhere.” The clerks spoke of her in terms too glowing to remember; and +the last arrival among them, the youngest, with the slang of the “old +country” fresh on his lips, called her a _stunner!_ Even Mrs. Grant got +up one of her half-expressed remarks about her, which everybody would +have supposed to be quizzical in its nature, were it not for the +frequent occurrence of the terms “good girl,” “innocent creature,” +which seemed to contradict that idea. There were also one or two +hapless swains who said nothings, but what they _did_ and _looked_ was +in itself unequivocal. They went quietly into a state of slow, +drivelling imbecility whenever they happened to meet with Kate; looked +as if they had become shockingly unwell, and were rather pleased than +otherwise that their friends should think so too; and upon all and +every occasion in which Kate was concerned, conducted themselves with +an amount of insane stupidity (although sane enough at other times) +that nothing could account for, save the idea that their admiration of +her was inexpressible, and that _that_ was the most effective way in +which they could express it. + +“Kate, my darling,” said Mr. Kennedy, as he finished the last mouthful +of tea, “wouldn’t it be capital to get another letter from Charley?” + +“Yes, dear papa, it would indeed. But I am quite sure that the next +time we shall hear from him will be when he arrives here, and makes the +house ring with his own dear voice.” + +“How so, girl?” said the old trader with a smile. It may as well be +remarked here that the above opening of conversation was by no means +new; it was stereotyped now. Ever since Charley had been appointed to +the management of Lower Fort Garry, his father had been so engrossed by +the idea, and spoke of it to Kate so frequently, that he had got into a +way of feeling as if the event so much desired would happen in a few +days, although he knew quite well that it could not, in the course of +ordinary or extra-ordinary circumstances, occur in less than several +months. However, as time rolled on he began regularly, every day or +two, to ask Kate questions about Charley that she could not by any +possibility answer, but which he knew from experience would lead her +into a confabulation about his son, which helped a little to allay his +impatience. + +“Why, you see, father,” she replied, “it is three months since we got +his last, and you know there has been no opportunity of forwarding +letters from Stoney Creek since it was despatched. Now, the next +opportunity that occurs-” + +“Mee-aow!” interrupted the cat, which had just finished two pats of +fresh butter without being detected, and began, rather recklessly, to +exult. + +“Hang that cat!” cried the old gentleman, angrily, “it’ll be the death +o’ me yet;” and seizing the first thing that came to hand, which +happened to be the loaf of bread, discharged it with such violence, and +with so correct an aim, that it knocked, not only the cat, but the +tea-pot and sugar-bowl also, off the table. + +“O dear papa!” exclaimed Kate. + +“Really, my dear,” cried Mr. Kennedy, half angry and half ashamed, “we +must get rid of that brute immediately. It has scarcely been a week +here, and it has done more mischief already than a score of ordinary +cats would have done in a twelvemonth.” + +“But then the mice, papa—” + +“Well, but—but—oh, hang the mice!” + +“Yes; but how are we to catch them?” said Kate. + +At this moment the cook, who had heard the sound of breaking crockery, +and judged it expedient that he should be present, opened the door. + +“How now, rascal!” exclaimed his master, striding up to him. “Did I +ring for you, eh?” + +“No, sir; but—” + +“But! eh, but! no more ‘buts,’ you scoundrel, else I’ll—” + +The motion of Mr. Kennedy’s fist warned the cook to make a precipitate +retreat, which he did at the same moment that the cat resolved to run +for its life. This caused them to meet in the doorway, and making a +compound entanglement with the mat, they both fell into the passage +with a loud crash. Mr. Kennedy shut the door gently, and returned to +his chair, patting Kate on the head as he passed. + +“Now, darling, go on with what you were saying; and don’t mind the +tea-pot—let it lie.” + +“Well,” resumed Kate, with a smile, “I was saying that the next +opportunity Charley can have will be by the brigade in spring, which we +expect to arrive here, you know, a month hence; but we won’t get a +letter by that, as I feel convinced that he and Harry will come by it +themselves.” + +“And the express canoe, Kate—the express canoe,” said Mr. Kennedy, with +a contortion of the left side of his head that was intended for a wink; +“you know they got leave to come by express, Kate.” + +“Oh, as to the express, father, I don’t expect them to come by that, as +poor Harry Somerville has been so ill that they would never think of +venturing to subject him to all the discomforts, not to mention the +dangers, of a canoe voyage.” + +“I don’t know that, lass—I don’t know that,” said Mr. Kennedy, giving +another contortion with his left cheek. “In fact, I shouldn’t wonder if +they arrived this very day; and it’s well to be on the look-out, so I’m +off to the banks of the river, Kate.” Saying this, the old gentleman +threw on an old fur cap with the peak all awry, thrust his left hand +into his right glove, put on the other with the back to the front and +the thumb in the middle finger, and bustled out of the house, muttering +as he went, “Yes, it’s well to be on the look-out for him.” + +Mr. Kennedy, however, was disappointed: Charley did not arrive that +day, nor the next, nor the day after that. Nevertheless the old +gentleman’s faith each day remained as firm as on the day previous that +Charley would arrive on that day “for certain.” About a week after +this, Mr. Kennedy put on his hat and gloves as usual, and sauntered +down to the banks of the river, where his perseverance was rewarded by +the sight of a small canoe rapidly approaching the landing-place. From +the costume of the three men who propelled it, the cut of the canoe +itself, the precision and energy of its movements, and several other +minute points about it only apparent to the accustomed eye of a +nor’-wester, he judged at once that this was a new arrival, and not +merely one of the canoes belonging to the settlers, many of which might +be seen passing up and down the river. As they drew near he fixed his +eyes eagerly upon them. + +“Very odd,” he exclaimed, while a shade of disappointment passed over +his brow: “it ought to be him, but it’s not like him; too big—different +nose altogether. Don’t know any of the three. Humph!—well, he’s _sure_ +to come to-morrow, at all events.” Having come to the conclusion that +it was not Charley’s canoe, he wheeled sulkily round and sauntered back +towards his house, intending to solace himself with a pipe. At that +moment he heard a shout behind him, and ere he could well turn round to +see whence it came, a young man bounded up the bank and seized him in +his arms with a hug that threatened to dislocate his ribs. The old +gentleman’s first impulse was to bestow on his antagonist (for he +verily believed him to be such) one of those vigorous touches with his +clinched fist which in days of yore used to bring some of his disputes +to a summary and effectual close; but his intention changed when the +youth spoke. + +“Father, dear, dear father!” said Charley, as he loosened his grasp, +and, still holding him by both hands, looked earnestly into his face +with swimming eyes. + +Old Mr. Kennedy seemed to have lost his powers of speech. He gazed at +his son for a few seconds in silence—then suddenly threw his arms +around him and engaged in a species of wrestle which he intended for an +embrace. + +“O Charley, my boy! you’ve come at last—God bless you! Let’s look at +you. Quite changed: six feet; no, not quite changed—the old nose; black +as an Indian. O Charley, my dear boy! I’ve been waiting for you for +months; why did you keep me so long, eh? Hang it, where’s my +handkerchief?” At this last exclamation Mr. Kennedy’s feelings quite +overcame him; his full heart overflowed at his eyes, so that when he +tried to look at his son, Charley appeared partly magnified and partly +broken up into fragments. Fumbling in his pocket for the missing +handkerchief, which he did not find, he suddenly seized his fur cap, in +a burst of exasperation, and wiped his eyes with that. Immediately +after, forgetting that it was a cap he thrust it into his pocket. + +“Come, dear father,” cried Charley, drawing the old man’s arm through +his, “let us go home. Is Kate there?” + +“Ay, ay,” cried Mr. Kennedy, waving his hand as he was dragged away, +and bestowing, quite unwittingly, a back-handed slap on the cheek to +Harry Somerville—which nearly felled that youth to the ground. “Ay, ay! +Kate, to be sure, darling. Yes, quite right, Charley; a pipe—that’s it, +my boy, let’s have a pipe!” And thus, uttering coherent and broken +sentences, he disappeared through the doorway with his long-lost and +now recovered son. + +Meanwhile Harry and Jacques continued to pace quietly before the house, +waiting patiently until the first ebullition of feeling, at the meeting +of Charley with his father and sister, should be over. In a few minutes +Charley ran out. + +“Hollo, Harry! come in, my boy; forgive my forgetfulness, but—” + +“My dear fellow,” interrupted Harry, “what nonsense you are talking! Of +course you forgot me, and everybody and everything on earth, just now; +but have you seen Kate? is—” + +“Yes, yes,” cried Charley, as he pushed his friend before him, and +dragged Jacques after him into the parlour.—“Here’s Harry, father, and +Jacques.—You’ve heard of Jacques, Kate?” + +“Harry, my, dear boy;” cried Mr. Kennedy, seizing his young friend by +the hand; “how are you, lad? Better, I hope.” + +At that moment Mr. Kennedy’s eye fell on Jacques, who stood in the +doorway, cap in hand, with the usual quiet smile lighting up his +countenance. + +“What! Jacques—Jacques Caradoc!” he cried, in astonishment. + +“The same, sir; you an’ I have know’d each other afore now in the way +o’ trade,” answered the hunter, as he grasped his old bourgeois by the +hand and wrung it warmly. Mr. Kennedy, senior, was so overwhelmed by +the combination of exciting influences to which he was now subjected, +that he plunged his hand into his pocket for the handkerchief again, +and pulled out the fur hat instead, which he flung angrily at the cat; +then using the sleeve of his coat as a substitute, he proceeded to put +a series of abrupt questions to Jacques and Charley simultaneously. + +In the meantime Harry went up to Kate and _stared_ at her. We do not +mean to say that he was intentionally rude to her. No! He went towards +her intending to shake hands, and renew acquaintance with his old +companion; but the moment he caught sight of her he was struck not only +dumb, but motionless. The odd part of it was that Kate, too, was +affected in precisely the same way, and both of them exclaimed +mentally, “Can it be possible?” Their lips, however, gave no utterance +to the question. At length Kate recollected herself, and blushing +deeply, held out her hand, as she said,— + +“Forgive me, Har—Mr. Somerville; I was so surprised at your altered +appearance, I could scarcely believe that my old friend stood before +me.” + +Harry’s cheeks crimsoned as he seized her hand and said: “Indeed, +Ka—a—Miss—that is, in fact, I’ve been very ill, and doubtless have +changed somewhat; but the very same thought struck me in regard to +yourself, you are so—so—” + +Fortunately for Harry, who was gradually becoming more and more +confused, to the amusement of Charley, who had closely observed the +meeting of his friend and sister, Mr. Kennedy came up. + +“Eh! what’s that? What did you say _struck_ you, Harry, my lad?” + +“_You_ did, father, on his arrival,” replied Charley, with a broad +grin, “and a very neat back-hander it was.” + +“Nonsense, Charley,” interrupted Harry, with a laugh.—“I was just +saying, sir, that Miss Kennedy is so changed that I could hardly +believe it to be herself.” + +“And I had just paid Mr. Somerville the same compliment, papa,” cried +Kate, laughing and blushing simultaneously. + +Mr. Kennedy thrust his hands into his pockets, frowned portentously as +he looked from one to the other, and said slowly, “_Miss_ Kennedy, +_Mr._ Somerville!” then turning to his son, remarked, “That’s something +new, Charley, lad; that girl is _Miss_ Kennedy, and that youth there is +_Mr._ Somerville!” + +Charley laughed loudly at this sally, especially when the old gentleman +followed it up with a series of contortions of the left cheek, meant +for violent winking. + +“Right, father, right; it won’t do here. We don’t know anybody but Kate +and Harry in this house.” + +Harry laughed in his own genuine style at this. + +“Well, Kate be it, with all my heart,” said he; “but, really, at first +she seemed so unlike the Kate of former days that I could not bring +myself to call her so.” + +“Humph!” said Mr. Kennedy. “But come, boys, with me to my smoking-room, +and let’s have a talk over a pipe, while Kate looks after dinner.” +Giving Charley another squeeze of the hand, and Harry a pat on the +shoulder, the old gentleman put on his cap (with the peak behind), and +led the way to his glass divan in the garden. + +It is perhaps unnecessary for us to say that Kate Kennedy and Harry +Somerville had, within the last hour, fallen deeply, hopelessly, +utterly, irrevocably, and totally in love with each other. They did not +merely fall up to the ears in love. To say that they fell over head and +ears in it would be, comparatively speaking, to say nothing. In fact, +they did not fall into it at all. They went deliberately backwards, +took a long race, sprang high into the air, turned completely round, +and went down head first into the flood, descending to a depth utterly +beyond the power of any deep-sea lead to fathom, or of any human mind +adequately to appreciate. Up to that day Kate had thought of Harry as +the hilarious youth who used to take every opportunity he could of +escaping from the counting-room and hastening to spend the afternoon in +rambling through the woods with her and Charley. But the instant she +saw him a man, with a bright, cheerful countenance, on which rough +living and exposure to frequent peril had stamped unmistakable lines of +energy and decision, and to which recent illness had imparted a +captivating touch of sadness—the moment she beheld this, and the +undeniable scrap of whisker that graced his cheeks, and the slight +_shade_ that rested on his upper lip, her heart leaped violently into +her throat, where it stuck hard and fast, like a stranded ship on a +lee-shore. + +In like manner, when Harry beheld his former friend a woman, with +beaming eyes and clustering ringlets and—(there, we won’t attempt +it!)—in fact, surrounded by every nameless and namable grace that makes +woman exasperatingly delightful, his heart performed the same eccentric +movement, and he felt that his fate was sealed; that he had been sucked +into a rapid which was too strong even for his expert and powerful arm +to contend against, and that he must drift with the current now, +_nolens volens_, and run it as he best could. + +When Kate retired to her sleeping-apartment that night, she endeavoured +to comport herself in her usual manner; but all her efforts failed. She +sat down on her bed, and remained motionless for half-an-hour; then she +started and sighed deeply; then she smiled and opened her Bible, but +forgot to read it; then she rose hastily, sighed again, took off her +gown, hung it up on a peg, and returning to the dressing-table sat down +on her best bonnet; then she cried a little, at which point the candle +suddenly went out; so she gave a slight scream, and at last went to bed +in the dark. + +Three hours afterwards, Harry Somerville, who had been enjoying a cigar +and a chat with Charley and his father, rose, and bidding his friends +good-night, retired to his chamber, where he flung himself down on a +chair, thrust his hands into his pockets, stretched out his legs, gazed +abstractedly before him, and exclaimed—“O Kate, my exquisite girl, +you’ve floored me quite that!” + +As he continued to sit in silence, the gaze of affection gradually and +slowly changed into a look of intense astonishment as he beheld the +gray cat sitting comfortably on the table, and regarding him with a +look of complacent interest, as if it thought Harry’s style of +addressing it was highly satisfactory—though rather unusual. + +“Brute!” exclaimed Harry, springing from his seat and darting towards +it. But the cat was too well accustomed to old Mr. Kennedy’s sudden +onsets to be easily taken by surprise. With a bound it reached the +floor, and took shelter under the bed, whence it was not ejected until +Harry, having first thrown his shoes, soap, clothes-brush, and +razor-strop at it, besides two or three books and several miscellaneous +articles of toilet, at last opened the door (a thing, by the way, that +people would do well always to remember before endeavouring to expel a +cat from an impregnable position), and drew the bed into the middle of +the room. Then, but not till then, it fled, with its back, its tail, +its hair, its eyes—in short, its entire body—bristling in rampant +indignation. Having dislodged the enemy, Harry replaced the bed, threw +off his coat and waistcoat, untied his neckcloth, sat down on his chair +again, and fell into a reverie; from which, after half-an-hour, he +started, clasped his hands, stamped his foot, glared up at the ceiling, +slapped his thigh, and exclaimed, in the voice of a hero, “Yes, I’ll do +it, or die!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +The first day at home—A gallop in the prairie, and its consequences. + + +Next morning, as the quartette were at breakfast, Mr. Kennedy, senior, +took occasion to propound to his son the plans he had laid down for +them during the next week. + +“In the first place, Charley, my boy,” said he, as well as a large +mouthful of buffalo steak and potato would permit, “you must drive up +to the fort and report yourself. Harry and I will go with you; and +after we have paid our respects to old Grant (another cup of tea, Kate, +my darling)—you recollect him, Charley, don’t you?” + +“Yes, perfectly.” + +“Well, then, after we’ve been to see him, we’ll drive down the river, +and call on our friends at the mill. Then we’ll look in on the +Thomsons; and give a call, in passing, on old Neverin—he’s always out, +so he’ll be pleased to hear we were there, and it won’t detain us. +Then—-” + +“But, dear father—excuse my interrupting you—Harry and I are very +anxious to spend our first day at home entirely with you and Kate. +Don’t you think it would be more pleasant? and then, to-morrow—” + +“Now, Charley, this is too bad of you,” said Mr. Kennedy, with a look +of affected indignation: “no sooner have you come back than you’re at +your old tricks, opposing and thwarting your father’s wishes.” + +“Indeed, I do not wish to do so, father,” replied Charley, with a +smile; “but I thought that you would like my plan better yourself, and +that it would afford us an opportunity of having a good long, +satisfactory talk about all that concerns us, past, present, and +future.” + +“What a daring mind you have, Charley,” said Harry, “to speak of +cramming a _satisfactory_ talk of the past, the present, and the future +all into _one_ day!” + +“Harry will take another cup of tea, Kate,” said Charley, with an arch +smile, as he went on,— + +“Besides, father, Jacques tells me that he means to go off immediately, +to visit a number of his old voyageur friends in the settlement, and I +cannot part with him till we have had one more canter together over the +prairies. I want to show him to Kate, for he’s a great original.” + +“Oh, that _will_ be charming!” cried Kate. “I should like of all things +to be introduced to the bold hunter.—Another cup of tea, Mr. S-Harry, I +mean?” + +Harry started on being thus unexpectedly addressed. “Yes, if you +please—that is—thank you—no, my cup’s full already, Kate!” + +“Well, well,” broke in Mr. Kennedy, senior, “I see you’re all leagued +against me, so I give in. But I shall not accompany you on your ride, +as my bones are a little stiffer than they used to be” (the old +gentleman sighed heavily), “and riding far knocks me up; but I’ve got +business to attend to in my glass house which will occupy me till +dinner-time.” + +“If the business you speak of,” began Charley, “is not incompatible +with a cigar, I shall be happy to—” + +“Why, as to that, the business itself has special reference to tobacco, +and, in fact, to nothing else; so come along, you young dog,” and the +old gentleman’s cheek went into violent convulsions as he rose, put on +his cap, with the peak very much over one eye, and went out in company +with the young men. + +An hour afterwards four horses stood saddled and bridled in front of +the house. Three belonged to Mr. Kennedy; the fourth had been borrowed +from a neighbour as a mount for Jacques Caradoc. In a few minutes more +Harry lifted Kate into the saddle, and having arranged her dress with a +deal of unnecessary care, mounted his nag. At the same moment Charley +and Jacques vaulted into their saddles, and the whole cavalcade +galloped down the avenue that led to the prairie, followed by the +admiring gaze of Mr. Kennedy, senior, who stood in the doorway of his +mansion, his hands in his vest pockets, his head uncovered, and his +happy visage smiling through a cloud of smoke that issued from his +lips. He seemed the very personification of jovial good-humour, and +what one might suppose Cupid would become were he permitted to grow +old, dress recklessly, and take to smoking! + +The prairies were bright that morning, and surpassingly beautiful. The +grass looked greener than usual, the dew-drops more brilliant as they +sparkled on leaf and blade and branch in the rays of an unclouded sun. +The turf felt springy, and the horses, which were first-rate animals, +seemed to dance over it, scarce crushing the wild-flowers beneath their +hoofs, as they galloped lightly on, imbued with the same joyous feeling +that filled the hearts of their riders. The plains at this place were +more picturesque than in other parts, their uniformity being broken up +by numerous clumps of small trees and wild shrubbery, intermingled with +lakes and ponds of all sizes, which filled the hollows for miles +round—temporary sheets of water these, formed by the melting snow, that +told of winter now past and gone. Additional animation and life was +given to the scene by flocks of water-fowl, whose busy cry and cackle +in the water, or whirring motion in the air, gave such an idea of +joyousness in the brute creation as could not but strike a chord of +sympathy in the heart of a man, and create a feeling of gratitude to +the Maker of man and beast. Although brilliant and warm, the sun, at +least during the first part of their ride, was by no means oppressive; +so that the equestrians stretched out at full gallop for many miles +over the prairie, round the lakes and through the bushes, ere their +steeds showed the smallest symptoms of warmth. + +During the ride Kate took the lead, with Jacques on her left and Harry +on her right, while Charley brought up the rear, and conversed in a +loud key with all three. At length Kate began to think it was just +possible the horses might be growing wearied with the slapping pace, +and checked her steed; but this was not an easy matter, as the horse +seemed to hold quite a contrary opinion, and showed a desire not only +to continue but to increase its gallop—a propensity that induced Harry +to lend his aid by grasping the rein and compelling the animal to walk. + +“That’s a spirited horse, Kate,” said Charley, as they ambled along; +“have you had him long?” + +“No,” replied Kate; “our father purchased him just a week before your +arrival, thinking that you would likely want a charger now and then. I +have only been on him once before.—Would he make a good buffalo-runner, +Jacques?” + +“Yes, miss; he would make an uncommon good runner,” answered the +hunter, as he regarded the animal with a critical glance—“at least if +he don’t shy at a gunshot.” + +“I never tried his nerves in that way,” said Kate, with a smile; +“perhaps he would shy at _that_. He has a good deal of spirit—oh, I do +dislike a lazy horse, and I do delight in a spirited one!” Kate gave +her horse a smart cut with the whip, half involuntarily, as she spoke. +In a moment it reared almost perpendicularly, and then bounded forward; +not, however, before Jacques’s quick eye had observed the danger, and +his ever-ready hand arrested its course. + +“Have a care, Miss Kate,” he said, in a warning voice, while he gazed +in the face of the excited girl with a look of undisguised admiration. +“It don’t do to wallop a skittish beast like that.” + +“Never fear, Jacques,” she replied, bending forward to pat her +charger’s arching neck; “see, he is becoming quite gentle again.” + +“If he runs away, Kate, we won’t be able to catch you again, for he’s +the best of the four, I think,” said Harry, with an uneasy glance at +the animal’s flashing eye and expanded nostrils. + +“Ay, it’s as well to keep the whip off him,” said Jacques. “I know’d a +young chap once in St. Louis who lost his sweetheart by usin’ his whip +too freely.” + +“Indeed,” cried Kate, with a merry laugh, as they emerged from one of +the numerous thickets and rode out upon the open plain at a foot pace; +“how was that, Jacques? Pray tell us the story.” + +“As to that, there’s little story about it,” replied the hunter. “You +see, Tim Roughead took arter his name, an’ was always doin’ some +mischief or other, which more than once nigh cost him his life; for the +young trappers that frequent St. Louis are not fellows to stand too +much jokin’, I can tell ye. Well, Tim fell in love with a gal there who +had jilted about a dozen lads afore; an’ bein’ an oncommon handsome, +strappin’ fellow, she encouraged him a good deal. But Tim had a +suspicion that Louise was rayther sweet on a young storekeeper’s clerk +there; so, bein’ an off-hand sort o’ critter, he went right up to the +gal, and says to her, says he, ‘Come, Louise, it’s o’ no use humbuggin’ +with _me_ any longer. If you like me, you like me; and if you don’t +like me, you don’t. There’s only two ways about it. Now, jist say the +word at once, an’ let’s have an end on’t. If you agree, I’ll squat with +you in whativer bit o’ the States you like to name; if not, I’ll bid +you good-bye this blessed mornin’, an’ make tracks right away for the +Rocky Mountains afore sundown. Ay or no, lass: which is’t to be?’ + +“Poor Louise was taken all aback by this, but she knew well that Tim +was a man who never threatened in jest, an’ moreover she wasn’t quite +sure o’ the young clerk; so she agreed, an’ Tim went off to settle with +her father about the weddin’. Well, the day came, an’ Tim, with a lot +o’ his comrades, mounted their horses, and rode off to the bride’s +house, which was a mile or two up the river out of the town. Just as +they were startin’, Tim’s horse gave a plunge that well-nigh pitched +him over its head, an’ Tim came down on him with a cut o’ his heavy +whip that sounded like a pistol-shot. The beast was so mad at this that +it gave a kind o’ squeal an’ another plunge that burst the girths. Tim +brought the whip down on its flank again, which made it shoot forward +like an arrow out of a bow, leavin’ poor Tim on the ground. So slick +did it fly away that it didn’t even throw him on his back, but let him +fall sittin’-wise, saddle and all, plump on the spot where he sprang +from. Tim scratched his head an’ grinned like a half-worried +rattlesnake as his comrades almost rolled off their saddles with +laughin’. But it was no laughin’ job, for poor Tim’s leg was doubled +under him, an’ broken across at the thigh. It was long before he was +able to go about again, and when he did recover he found that Louise +and the young clerk were spliced an’ away to Kentucky.” + +“So you see what are the probable consequences, Kate, if you use your +whip so obstreperously again,” cried Charley, pressing his horse into a +canter. + +Just at that moment a rabbit sprang from under a bush and darted away +before them. In an instant Harry Somerville gave a wild shout, and set +off in pursuit. Whether it was the cry or the sudden flight of Harry’s +horse, we cannot tell, but the next instant Kate’s charger performed an +indescribable flourish with its hind legs, laid back its ears, took the +bit between its teeth, and ran away. Jacques was on its heels +instantly, and a few seconds afterwards Charley and Harry joined in the +pursuit, but their utmost efforts failed to do more than enable them to +keep their ground. Kate’s horse was making for a dense thicket, into +which it became evident they must certainly plunge. Harry and her +brother trembled when they looked at it and realised her danger; even +Jacques’s face showed some symptoms of perturbation for a moment as he +glanced before him in indecision. The expression vanished, however, in +a few seconds, and his cheerful, self-possessed look returned, as he +cried out,—“Pull the left rein hard, Miss Kate; try to edge up the +slope.” + +Kate heard the advice, and exerting all her strength, succeeded in +turning her horse a little to the left, which caused him to ascend a +gentle slope, at the top of which part of the thicket lay. She was +closely followed by Harry and her brother, who urged their steeds madly +forward in the hope of catching her rein, while Jacques diverged a +little to the right. By this manoeuvre the latter hoped to gain on the +runaway, as the ground along which he rode was comparatively level, +with a short but steep ascent at the end of it, while that along which +Kate flew like the wind was a regular ascent, that would prove very +trying to her horse. At the margin of the thicket grew a row of high +bushes, towards which they now galloped with frightful speed. As Kate +came up to this natural fence, she observed the trapper approaching on +the other side of it. Springing from his jaded steed, without +attempting to check its pace, he leaped over the underwood like a stag +just as the young girl cleared the bushes at a bound. Grasping the +reins and checking the horse violently with one hand, he extended the +other to Kate, who leaped unhesitatingly into his arms. At the same +instant Charley cleared the bushes, and pulled sharply up; while +Harry’s horse, unable, owing to its speed, to take the leap, came +crashing through them, and dashed his rider with stunning violence to +the ground. + +Fortunately no bones were broken, and a draught of clear water, brought +by Jacques from a neighbouring pond, speedily restored Harry’s shaken +faculties. + +“Now, Kate,” said Charley, leading forward the horse which he had +ridden, “I have changed saddles, as you see; this horse will suit you +better, and I’ll take the shine out of your charger on the way home.” + +“Thank you, Charley,” said Kate, with a smile. “I’ve quite recovered +from my fright—if, indeed, it is worth calling by that name; but I fear +that Harry has—” + +“Oh, I’m all right,” cried Harry, advancing as he spoke to assist Kate +in mounting. “I am ashamed to think that my wild cry was the cause of +all this.” + +In another minute they were again in their saddles, and turning their +faces homeward, they swept over the plain at a steady gallop, fearing +lest their accident should be the means of making Mr. Kennedy wait +dinner for them. On arriving, they found the old gentleman engaged in +an animated discussion with the cook about laying the table-cloth, +which duty he had imposed on himself in Kate’s absence. + +“Ah, Kate, my love,” he cried, as they entered, “come here, lass, and +mount guard. I’ve almost broke my heart in trying to convince that +thick-headed goose that he can’t set the table properly. Take it off my +hands, like a good girl.—Charley, my boy, you’ll be pleased to hear +that your old friend Redfeather is here.” + +“Redfeather, father!” exclaimed Charley, in surprise. + +“Yes; he and the parson, from the other end of Lake Winnipeg, arrived +an hour ago in a tin kettle, and are now on their way to the upper +fort.” + +“That is, indeed, pleasant news; but I suspect that it will give much +greater pleasure to our friend Jacques, who, I believe, would be glad +to lay down his life for him, simply to prove his affection.” + +“Well, well,” said the old gentleman, knocking the ashes out of his +pipe, and refilling it so as to be ready for an after-dinner smoke, +“Redfeather has come, and the parson’s come too; and I look upon it as +quite miraculous that they have come, considering the _thing_ they came +in. What they’ve come for is more than I can tell, but I suppose it’s +connected with church affairs.—Now then, Kate, what’s come o’ the +dinner, Kate? Stir up that grampus of a cook! I half expect that he has +boiled the cat for dinner, in his wrath, for it has been badgering him +and me the whole morning.—Hollo, Harry, what’s wrong?” + +The last exclamation was in consequence of an expression of pain which +crossed Harry’s face for a moment. + +“Nothing, nothing,” replied Harry. “I’ve had a fall from my horse, and +bruised my arm a little. But I’ll see to it after dinner.” + +“That you shall not,” cried Mr Kennedy energetically, dragging his +young friend into his bedroom. “Off with your coat, lad. Let’s see it +at once. Ay, ay,” he continued, examining Harry’s left arm, which was +very much discoloured, and swelled from the elbow to the shoulder, +“that’s a severe thump, my boy. But it’s nothing to speak of; only +you’ll have to submit to a sling for a day or two.” + +“That’s annoying, certainly, but I’m thankful it’s no worse,” remarked +Harry, as Mr. Kennedy dressed the arm after his own fashion, and then +returned with him to the dining-room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +Love—Old Mr. Kennedy puts his foot in it. + + +One morning, about two weeks after Charley’s arrival at Red River, +Harry Somerville found himself alone in Mr. Kennedy’s parlour. The old +gentleman himself had just galloped away in the direction of the lower +fort, to visit Charley, who was now formally installed there; Kate was +busy in the kitchen giving directions about dinner; and Jacques was +away with Redfeather, visiting his numerous friends in the settlement: +so that, for the first time since his arrival, Harry found himself at +the hour of ten in the morning utterly lone, and with nothing very +definite to do. Of course, the two weeks that had elapsed were not +without their signs and symptoms, their minor accidents and incidents, +in regard to the subject that filled his thoughts. Harry had fifty +times been tossed alternately from the height of hope to the depth of +despair, from the extreme of felicity to the uttermost verge of sorrow, +and he began seriously to reflect, when he remembered his desperate +resolution on the first night of his arrival, that if he did not “do” +he certainly would “die.” This was quite a mistake, however, on Harry’s +part. Nobody ever did _die_ of unrequited love. Doubtless many people +have hanged, drowned, and shot themselves because of it; but, generally +speaking, if the patient can be kept from maltreating himself long +enough, time will prove to be an infallible remedy. O youthful reader, +lay this to heart: but pshaw! why do I waste ink on so hopeless a task? +_Every_ one, we suppose, resolves once in a way to _die_ of love; +so—die away, my young friends, only make sure that you don’t _kill_ +yourselves, and I’ve no fear of the result. + +But to return. Kate, likewise, was similarly affected. She behaved like +a perfect maniac—mentally, that is—and plunged herself, metaphorically, +into such a succession of hot and cold baths, that it was quite a +marvel how her spiritual constitution could stand it. + +But we were wrong in saying that Harry was _alone_ in the parlour. The +gray cat was there. On a chair before the fire it sat, looking +dishevelled and somewhat _blase,_ in consequence of the ill-treatment +and worry to which it was continually subjected. After looking out of +the window for a short time, Harry rose, and sitting down on a chair +beside the cat, patted its head—a mark of attention it was evidently +not averse to, but which it received, nevertheless, with marked +suspicion, and some indications of being in a condition of armed +neutrality. Just then the door opened, and Kate entered. + +“Excuse me, Harry, for leaving you alone,” she said, “but I had to +attend to several household matters. Do you feel inclined for a walk?” + +“I do indeed,” replied Harry; “it is a charming day, and I am +exceedingly anxious to see the bower that you have spoken to me about +once or twice, and which Charley told me of long before I came here.” + +“Oh, I shall take you to it with pleasure,” replied Kate; “my dear +father often goes there with me to smoke. If you will wait for two +minutes I’ll put on my bonnet,” and she hastened to prepare herself for +the walk, leaving Harry to caress the cat, which he did so +energetically, when he thought of its young mistress, that it instantly +declared war, and sprang from the chair with a remonstrative yell. + +On their way down to the bower, which was situated in a picturesque, +retired spot on the river’s bank about a mile below the house, Harry +and Kate tried to converse on ordinary topics, but without success, and +were at last almost reduced to silence. One subject alone filled their +minds; all others were flat. Being sunk, as it were, in an ocean of +love, they no sooner opened their lips to speak, than the waters rushed +in, as a natural consequence, and nearly choked them. Had they but +opened their mouths wide and boldly, they would have been pleasantly +drowned together; but as it was, they lacked the requisite courage, and +were fain to content themselves with an occasional frantic struggle to +the surface, where they gasped a few words of uninteresting air, and +sank again instantly. + +On arriving at the bower, however, and sitting down, Harry plucked up +heart, and, heaving a deep sigh, said— + +“Kate, there is a subject about which I have long desired to speak to +you-” + +Long as he had been desiring it, however, Kate thought it must have +been nothing compared with the time that elapsed ere he said anything +else; so she bent over a flower which she held in her hand, and said in +a low voice, “Indeed, Harry, what is it?” + +Harry was desperate now. His usually flexible tongue was stiff as stone +and dry as a bit of leather. He could no more give utterance to an +intelligible idea than he could change himself into Mr. Kennedy’s gray +cat—a change that he would not have been unwilling to make at that +moment. At last he seized his companion’s hand, and exclaimed, with a +burst of emotion that quite startled her,— + +“Kate, Kate! O dearest Kate, I love you! I _adore_ you! I—” + +At this point poor Harry’s powers of speech again failed; so being +utterly unable to express another idea, he suddenly threw his arms +round her, and pressed her fervently to his bosom. + +Kate was taken quite aback by this summary method of coming to the +point. Repulsing him energetically, she exclaimed, while she blushed +crimson. “O Harry—Mr Somerville!” and burst into tears. + +Poor Harry stood before her for a moment, his head hanging down, and a +deep blush of shame on his face. + +“O Kate,” said he, in a deep tremulous voice, “forgive me; do—do +forgive me! I knew not what I said. I scarce knew what I did” (here he +seized her hand). “I know but one thing, Kate, and tell it you _will,_ +if it should cost me my life. I love you, Kate, to distraction, and I +wish you to be my wife. I have been rude, very rude. Can you forgive +me, Kate?” + +Now, this latter part of Harry’s speech was particularly comical, the +comicality of it lying in this, that while he spoke, he drew Kate +gradually towards him, and at the very time when he gave utterance to +the penitential remorse for his rudeness, Kate was infolded in a much +more vigorous embrace than at the first; and what is more remarkable +still, she laid her little head quietly on his shoulder, as if she had +quite changed her mind in regard to what was and what was not rude, and +rather enjoyed it than otherwise. + +While the lovers stood in this interesting position, it became apparent +to Harry’s olfactory nerves that the atmosphere was impregnated with +tobacco smoke. Looking hastily up, he beheld an apparition that tended +somewhat to increase the confusion of his faculties. + +In the opening of the bower stood Mr. Kennedy, senior, in a state of +inexpressible amazement. We say inexpressible advisedly, because the +extreme pitch of feeling which Mr. Kennedy experienced at what he +beheld before him cannot possibly be expressed by human visage. As far +as the countenance of man could do it, however, we believe the old +gentleman’s came pretty near the mark on this occasion. His hands were +in his coat pockets, his body bent a little forward, his head and neck +outstretched a little beyond it, his eyes almost starting from the +sockets, and certainly the most prominent feature in his face: his +teeth firmly clinched on his beloved pipe, and his lips expelling a +multitude of little clouds so vigorously that one might have taken him +for a sort of self-acting intelligent steam-gun that had resolved +utterly to annihilate Kate and Harry at short range in the course of +two minutes. + +When Kate saw her father she uttered a slight scream, covered her face +with her hands, rushed from the bower, and disappeared in the wood. + +“So, young gentleman,” began Mr. Kennedy, in a slow, deliberate tone of +voice, while he removed the pipe from his mouth, clinched his fist, and +confronted Harry, “you’ve been invited to my house as a guest, sir, and +you seize the opportunity basely to insult my daughter!” + +“Stay, stay, my dear sir,” interrupted Harry, laying his hand on the +old man’s shoulder and gazing earnestly into his face. “Oh, do not, +even for a moment, imagine that I could be so base as to trifle with +the affections of your daughter. I may have been presumptuous, hasty, +foolish, mad if you will, but not base. God forbid that I should treat +her with disrespect, even in thought! I love her, Mr. Kennedy, as I +never loved before. I have asked her to be my wife, and—she—” + +“Whew!” whistled old Mr. Kennedy, replacing his pipe between his teeth, +gazing abstractedly at the ground, and emitting clouds innumerable. +After standing thus a few seconds, he turned his back slowly upon +Harry, and smiled outrageously once or twice, winking at the same time, +after his own fashion, at the river. Turning abruptly round, he +regarded Harry with a look of affected dignity, and said, “Pray, sir, +what did my daughter say to your very peculiar proposal?” + +“She said ye—ah! that is—she didn’t exactly _say_ anything, but +she—indeed I—” + +“Humph!” ejaculated the old gentleman, deepening his frown as he +regarded his young friend through the smoke. “In short, she said +nothing, I suppose, but led you to infer, perhaps, that she would have +said yes if I hadn’t interrupted you.” + +Harry blushed, and said nothing. + +“Now, sir,” continued Mr. Kennedy, “don’t you think that it would have +been a polite piece of attention on your part to have asked _my_ +permission before you addressed my daughter on such a subject, eh?” + +“Indeed,” said Harry, “I acknowledge that I have been hasty, but I must +disclaim the charge of disrespect to you, sir. I had no intention +whatever of broaching the subject to-day, but my feelings, unhappily, +carried me away, and—and—in fact—” + +“Well, well, sir,” interrupted Mr. Kennedy, with a look of offended +dignity, “your feelings ought to be kept more under control. But come, +sir, to my house. I must talk further with you on this subject. I must +read you a lesson, sir—a lesson, humph! that you won’t forget in a +hurry.” + +“But, my dear sir—” began Harry. + +“No more, sir—no more at present,” cried the old gentleman, smoking +violently as he pointed to the footpath that led to the house, “Lead +the way, sir; I’ll follow.” + +The footpath, although wide enough to allow Kate and Harry to walk, +beside each other, did not permit of two gentlemen doing so +conveniently—a circumstance which proved a great relief to Mr. Kennedy, +inasmuch as it enabled him, while walking behind his companion, to wink +convulsively, smoke furiously, and punch his own ribs severely, by way +of opening a few safety-valves to his glee, without which there is no +saying what might have happened. He was nearly caught in these +eccentricities more than once, however, as Harry turned half round with +the intention of again attempting to exculpate himself—attempts which +were as often met by a sudden start, a fierce frown, a burst of smoke, +and a command to “go on.” On approaching the house, the track became a +broad road, affording Mr. Kennedy no excuse for walking in the rear, so +that he was under the necessity of laying violent restraint on his +feelings—a restraint which it was evident could not last long. At that +moment, to his great relief, his eye suddenly fell on the gray cat, +which happened to be reposing innocently on the doorstep. + +“_That’s_ it! there’s the whole cause of it at last!” cried Mr. +Kennedy, in a perfect paroxysm of excitement, flinging his pipe +violently at the unoffending victim as he rushed towards it. The pipe +missed the cat, but went with a sharp crash through the parlour window, +at which Charley was seated, while his father darted through the +doorway, along the passage, and into the kitchen. Here the cat, having +first capsized a pyramid of pans and kettles in its consternation, took +refuge in an absolutely unassailable position. Seeing this, Mr. Kennedy +violently discharged a pailful of water at the spot, strode rapidly to +his own apartment, and locked himself in. + +“Dear me, Harry, what’s wrong? my father seems unusually excited,” said +Charley, in some astonishment, as Harry entered the room, and flung +himself on a chair with a look of chagrin. + +“It’s difficult to say, Charley; the fact is, I’ve asked your sister +Kate to be my wife, and your father seems to have gone mad with +indignation.” + +“Asked Kate to be your wife!” cried Charley, starting up, and regarding +his friend with a look of amazement. + +“Yes, I have,” replied Harry, with an air of offended dignity. “I know +very well that I am unworthy of her, but I see no reason why you and +your father should take such pains to make me feel it.” + +“Unworthy of her, my dear fellow!” exclaimed Charley, grasping his hand +and wringing it violently; “no doubt you are, and so is everybody, but +you shall have her for all that, my boy. But tell me, Harry, have you +spoken to Kate herself?” + +“Yes, I have.” + +“And does she agree?” + +“Well, I think I may say she does.” + +“Have you told my father that she does?” + +“Why, as to that,” said Harry, with a perplexed smile, “he didn’t need +to be told; he made _himself_ pretty well aware of the facts of the +case.” + +“Ah! I’ll soon settle _him_,” cried Charley. “Keep your mind easy, old +fellow; I’ll very soon bring him round.” With this assurance, Charley +gave his friend’s hand another shake that nearly wrenched the arm from +his shoulder, and hastened out of the room in search of his refractory +father. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +The course of true love, curiously enough, runs smooth for once; and +the curtain falls. + + +Time rolled on, and with it the sunbeams of summer went—the snowflakes +of winter came. Needles of ice began to shoot across the surface of Red +River, and gradually narrowed its bed. Crystalline trees formed upon +the window-panes. Icicles depended from the eaves of the houses. Snow +fell in abundance on the plains; liquid nature began rapidly to +solidify, and not many weeks after the first frost made its appearance +everything was (as the settlers expressed it) “hard and fast.” + +Mr. Kennedy, senior, was in his parlour, with his back to a blazing +wood-fire that seemed large enough to roast an ox whole. He was +standing, moreover, in a semi-picturesque attitude, with his right hand +in his breeches pocket and his left arm round Kate’s waist. Kate was +dressed in a gown that rivalled the snow itself in whiteness. One +little gold clasp shone in her bosom; it was the only ornament she +wore. Mr. Kennedy, too, had somewhat altered his style of costume. He +wore a sky-blue, swallow-tailed coat, whose maker had flourished in +London half-a-century before. It had a velvet collar about five inches +deep, fitted uncommonly tight to the figure, and had a pair of bright +brass buttons, very close together, situated half-a-foot above the +wearer’s natural waist. Besides this, he had on a canary-coloured vest, +and a pair of white duck trousers, in the fob of which _evidently_ +reposed an immense gold watch of the olden time, with a bunch of seals +that would have served very well as an anchor for a small boat. +Although the dress was, on the whole, slightly comical, its owner, with +his full, fat, broad figure, looked remarkably well in it, +nevertheless. + +It was Kate’s marriage-day, or rather marriage-evening; for the sun had +set two hours ago, and the moon was now sailing in the frosty sky, its +pale rays causing the whole country to shine with a clear, cold, +silvery whiteness. + +The old gentleman had been for some time gazing in silent admiration on +the fair brow and clustering ringlets of his daughter, when it suddenly +occurred to him that the company would arrive in half-an-hour, and +there were several things still to be attended to. + +“Hello, Kate!” he exclaimed, with a start, “we’re forgetting ourselves. +The candles are yet to light, and lots of other things to do.” Saying +this, he began to bustle about the room in a state of considerable +agitation. + +“Oh, don’t worry yourself, dear father!” cried Kate, running after him +and catching him by the hand. “Miss Cookumwell and good Mrs. +Taddipopple are arranging everything about tea and supper in the +kitchen, and Tom Whyte has been kindly sent to us by Mr. Grant, with +orders to make himself generally useful, so _he_ can light the candles +in a few minutes, and you’ve nothing to do but to kiss me and receive +the company.” Kate pulled her father gently towards the fire again, and +replaced his arm round her waist. + +“Receive company! Ah, Kate, my love, that’s just what I know nothing +about. If they’d let me receive them in my own way, I’d do it well +enough; but that abominable Mrs. Taddi-what’s her name-has quite addled +my brains and driven me distracted with trying to get me to understand +what she calls _etiquette_.” + +Kate laughed, and said she didn’t care _how_ he received them, as she +was quite sure that, whichever way he did it, he would do it pleasantly +and well. + +At that moment the door opened, and Tom Whyte entered. He was thinner, +if possible, than he used to be, and considerably stiffer, and more +upright. + +“Please, sir,” said he, with a motion that made you expect to hear his +back creak (it was intended for a bow)—“please, sir, can I do hanythink +for yer?” + +“Yes, Tom, you can,” replied Mr. Kennedy. “Light these candles, my man, +and then go to the stable and see that everything there is arranged for +putting up the horses. It will be pretty full to-night, Tom, and will +require some management. Then, let me see—ah yes, bring me my pipe, +Tom, my big meerschaum.—I’ll sport that to-night in honour of you, +Kate.” + +“Please, sir,” began Tom, with a slightly disconcerted air, “I’m +afeared, sir, that—um—” + +“Well, Tom, what would you say? Go on.” + +“The pipe, sir,” said Tom, growing still more disconcerted—“says I to +cook, says I, ‘Cook, wot’s been an’ done it, d’ye think?’ ‘Dun know, +Tom,’ says he, ‘but it’s smashed, that’s sartin. I think the gray +cat—’” + +“What!” cried the old trader, in a voice of thunder, while a frown of +the most portentous ferocity darkened his brow for an instant. It was +only for an instant, however. Clearing his brow quickly, he said with a +smile, “But it’s your wedding-day, Kate, my darling. It won’t do to +blow up anybody to-day, not even the cat.—There, be off, Tom, and see +to things. Look sharp! I hear sleigh-bells already.” + +As he spoke Tom vanished perpendicularly, Kate hastened to her room, +and the old gentleman himself went to the front door to receive his +guests. + +The night was of that intensely calm and still character that +invariably accompanies intense frost, so that the merry jingle of the +sleigh-bells that struck on Mr. Kennedy’s listening ear continued to +sound, and grow louder as they drew near, for a considerable time ere +the visitors arrived. Presently the dull, soft tramp of horses’ hoofs +was heard in the snow, and a well-known voice shouted out lustily, “Now +then, Mactavish, keep to the left. Doesn’t the road take a turn there? +Mind the gap in the fence. That’s old Kennedy’s only fault. He’d rather +risk breaking his friends’ necks than mend his fences!” + +“All right, here we are,” cried Mactavish, as the next instant two +sleighs emerged out of the avenue into the moonlit space in front of +the house, and dashed up to the door amid an immense noise and clatter +of bells, harness, hoofs, snorting, and salutations. + +“Ah, Grant, my dear fellow!” cried Mr. Kennedy, springing to the sleigh +and seizing his friend by the hand as he dragged him out. “This is kind +of you to come early. And Mrs. Grant, too. Take care, my dear madam, +step clear of the haps; now, then—cleverly done” (as Mrs. Grant tumbled +into his arms in a confused heap). “Come along now; there’s a capital +fire in here.—Don’t mind the horses, Mactavish—follow us, my lad; Tom +Whyte will attend to them.” + +Uttering such disjointed remarks, Mr. Kennedy led Mrs. Grant into the +house, and made her over to Mrs. Taddipopple, who hurried her away to +an inner apartment, while Mr. Kennedy conducted her spouse, along with +Mactavish and our friend the head clerk at Fort Garry, into the +parlour. + +“Harry, my dear fellow, I wish you joy,” cried Mr. Grant, as the former +grasped his hand. “Lucky dog you are. Where’s Kate, eh? Not visible +yet, I suppose.” + +“No, not till the parson comes,” interrupted Mr. Kennedy, convulsing +his left cheek.—“Hollo, Charley, where are you? Ah! bring the cigars, +Charley.—Sit down, gentlemen; make yourselves at home—I say, Mrs. +Taddi—Taddi—oh, botheration—popple! that’s it—your name, madam, is a +puzzler-but-we’ll need more chairs, I think. Fetch one or two, like a +dear!” + +As he spoke the jingle of bells was heard outside, and Mr. Kennedy +rushed to the door again. + +“Good-evening, Mr. Addison,” said he, taking that gentleman warmly by +the hand as he resigned the reins to Tom Whyte. “I am delighted to see +you, sir (Look after the minister’s mare, Tom), glad to see you, my +dear sir. Some of my friends have come already. This way, Mr. Addison.” + +The worthy clergyman responded to Mr. Kennedy’s greeting in his own +hearty manner, and followed him into the parlour, where the guests now +began to assemble rapidly. + +“Father,” cried Charley, catching his sire by the arm, “I’ve been +looking for you everywhere, but you dance about like a +will-o’-the-wisp. Do you know I’ve invited my friends Jacques and +Redfeather to come to-night, and also Louis Peltier, the guide with +whom I made my first trip. You recollect him, father?” + +“Ay, that do I, lad, and happy shall I be to see three such worthy men +under my roof as guests on this night.” + +“Yes, yes, I know that, father; but I don’t see them here. Have they +come yet?” + +“Can’t say, boy. By the way, Pastor Conway is also coming, so we’ll +have a meeting between an Episcopalian and a Wesleyan. I sincerely +trust that they won’t fight!” As he said this the old gentleman grinned +and threw his cheek into convulsions—an expression which was suddenly +changed into one of confusion when he observed that Mr. Addison was +standing close beside him, and had heard the remark. + +“Don’t blush, my dear sir,” said Mr. Addison, with a quiet smile, as he +patted his friend on the shoulder. “You have too much reason, I am +sorry to say, for expecting that clergymen of different denominations +should look coldly on each other. There is far too much of this +indifference and distrust among those who labour in different parts of +the Lord’s vineyard. But I trust you will find that my sympathies +extend a little beyond the circle of my own particular body. Indeed, +Mr. Conway is a particular friend of mine; so I assure you we won’t +fight.” + +“Right, right” cried Mr. Kennedy, giving the clergy man an energetic +grasp of the hand; “I like to hear you speak that way. I must confess +that I’ve been a good deal surprised to observe, by what one reads in +the old-country newspapers, as well as by what one sees even hereaway +in the backwood settlements, how little interest clergymen show in the +doings of those who don’t happen to belong to their own particular +sect; just as if a soul saved through the means of an Episcopalian was +not of as much value as one saved by a Wesleyan, or a Presbyterian, or +a Dissenter. Why, sir, it seems to me just as mean-spirited and selfish +as if one of our chief factors was so entirely taken up with the doings +and success of his own particular district that he didn’t care a +gun-flint for any other district in the Company’s service.” + +There was at least one man listening to these remarks whose naturally +logical and liberal mind fully agreed with them. This was Jacques +Caradoc, who had entered the room a few minutes before, in company with +his friend Redfeather and Louis Peltier. + +“Right, sir! That’s fact, straight up and down,” said he, in an +approving tone. + +“Ha! Jacques, my good fellow, is that you?—Redfeather, my friend, how +are you?” said Mr. Kennedy, turning round and grasping a hand of +each.—“Sit down there, Louis, beside Mrs. Taddi—eh?—ah!—popple.—Mr. +Addison, this is Jacques Caradoc, the best and stoutest hunter between +Hudson’s Bay and Oregon.” + +Jacques smiled and bowed modestly as Mr. Addison shook his hand. The +worthy hunter did indeed at that moment look as if he fully merited Mr. +Kennedy’s eulogium. Instead of endeavouring to ape the gentleman, as +many men in his rank of life would have been likely to do on an +occasion like this, Jacques had not altered his costume a hair-breadth +from what it usually was, excepting that some parts of it were quite +new, and all of it faultlessly clean. He wore the usual capote, but it +was his best one, and had been washed for the occasion. The scarlet +belt and blue leggings were also as bright in colour as if they had +been put on for the first time; and the moccasins, which fitted closely +to his well-formed feet, were of the cleanest and brightest yellow +leather, ornamented, as usual, in front. The collar of his blue-striped +shirt was folded back a little more carefully than usual, exposing his +sun-burned and muscular throat. In fact, he wanted nothing, save the +hunting-knife, the rifle, and the powder-horn, to constitute him a +perfect specimen of a thorough backwoodsman. + +Redfeather and Louis were similarly costumed, and a noble trio they +looked as they sat modestly in a corner, talking to each other in +whispers, and endeavouring, as much as possible, to curtail their +colossal proportions. + +“Now, Harry,” said Mr. Kennedy, in a hoarse whisper, at the same time +winking vehemently, “we’re about ready, lad. Where’s Kate, eh? shall we +send for her?” + +Harry blushed, and stammered out something that was wholly +unintelligible, but which, nevertheless, seemed to afford infinite +delight to the old gentleman, who chuckled and winked tremendously, +gave his son-in-law a facetious poke in the ribs, and turning abruptly +to Miss Cookumwell, said to that lady, “Now, Miss Cookumpopple, we’re +all ready. They seem to have had enough tea and trash; you’d better be +looking after Kate, I think.” + +Miss Cookumwell smiled, rose, and left the room to obey; Mrs. +Taddipopple followed to help, and soon returned with Kate, whom they +delivered up to her father at the door. Mr. Kennedy led her to the +upper end of the room; Harry Somerville stood by her side, as if by +magic; Mr. Addison dropped opportunely before them, as if from the +clouds; there was an extraordinary and abrupt pause in the hum of +conversation, and ere Kate was well aware of what was about to happen, +she felt herself suddenly embraced by her husband, from whom she was +thereafter violently torn and all but smothered by her sympathising +friends. + +Poor Kate! she had gone through the ceremony almost +mechanically—recklessly, we might be justified in saying; for not +having raised her eyes off the floor from its commencement to its +close, the man whom she accepted for better or for worse might have +been Jacques or Redfeather for all that she knew. + +Immediately after this there was heard the sound of a fiddle, and an +old Canadian was led to the upper end of the room, placed on a chair, +and hoisted, by the powerful arms of Jacques and Louis, upon a table. +In this conspicuous position the old man seemed to be quite at his +ease. He spent a few minutes in bringing his instrument into perfect +tune; then looking round with a mild, patronising glance to see that +the dancers were ready, he suddenly struck up a Scotch reel with an +amount of energy, precision, and spirit that might have shot a pang of +jealousy through the heart of Neil Gow himself. The noise that +instantly commenced, and was kept up from that moment, with but few +intervals, during the whole evening, was of a kind that is never heard +in fashionable drawing-rooms. Dancing in the backwood settlements _is_ +dancing. It is not walking; it is not sailing; it is not undulating; it +is not sliding; no, it is _bona-fide_ dancing! It is the performance of +intricate evolutions with the feet and legs that make one wink to look +at; performed in good time too, and by people who look upon _all_ their +muscles as being useful machines, not merely things of which a select +few, that cannot be dispensed with, are brought into daily operation. +Consequently the thing was done with an amount of vigour that was +conducive to the health of performers, and productive of satisfaction +to the eyes of beholders. When the evening wore on apace, however, and +Jacques’s modesty was so far overcome as to induce him to engage in a +reel, along with his friend Louis Peltier, and two bouncing young +ladies whose father had driven them twenty miles over the plains that +day in order to attend the wedding of their dear friend and former +playmate, Kate—when these four stood up, we say, and the fiddler played +more energetically than ever, and the stout backwoodsmen began to warm +and grow vigorous, until, in the midst of their tremendous leaps and +rapid but well-timed motions, they looked like very giants amid their +brethren, then it was that Harry, as he felt Kate’s little hand +pressing his arm, and observed her sparkling eyes gazing at the dancers +in genuine admiration, began at last firmly to believe that the whole +thing was a dream; and then it was that old Mr. Kennedy rejoiced to +think that the house had been built under his own special directions, +and he knew that it could not by any possibility be shaken to pieces. + +And well might Harry imagine that he dreamed; for besides the +bewildering tendency of the almost too-good-to-be-true fact that Kate +was really Mrs. Harry Somerville, the scene before him was a +particularly odd and perplexing mixture of widely different elements, +suggestive of new and old associations. The company was miscellaneous. +There were retired old traders, whose lives from boyhood had been spent +in danger, solitude, wild scenes and adventures, to which those of +Robinson Crusoe are mere child’s play. There were young girls, the +daughters of these men, who had received good educations in the Red +River academy, and a certain degree of polish which education always +gives; a very _different_ polish, indeed, from that which the +conventionalities and refinements of the Old World bestow, but not the +less agreeable on that account—nay, we might even venture to say, all +the _more_ agreeable on that account. There were Red Indians and +clergymen; there were one or two ladies of a doubtful age, who had come +out from the old country to live there, having found it no easy matter, +poor things, to live at home; there were matrons whose absolute silence +on every subject save “yes” or “no” showed that they had not been +subjected to the refining influences of the academy, but whose hearty +smiles and laughs of genuine good-nature proved that the storing of the +brain has, after all, _very_ little to do with the best and deepest +feelings of the heart. There were the tones of Scotch reels +sounding—tones that brought Scotland vividly before the very eyes; and +there were Canadian hunters and half-breed voyageurs, whose moccasins +were more accustomed to the turf of the woods than the boards of a +drawing-room, and whose speech and accents made Scotland vanish away +altogether from the memory. There were old people and young folk; there +were fat and lean, short and long. There were songs too—ballads of +England, pathetic songs of Scotland, alternating with the French +ditties of Canada, and the sweet, inexpressibly plaintive canoe-songs +of the voyageur. There were strong contrasts in dress also: some wore +the home-spun trousers of the settlement, a few the ornamented leggings +of the hunter. Capotes were there—loose, flowing, and picturesque; and +broad-cloth tail-coats were there, of the last century, tight-fitting, +angular—in a word, detestable; verifying the truth of the proverb that +extremes meet, by showing that the _cut_ which all the wisdom of +tailors and scientific fops, after centuries of study, had laboriously +wrought out and foisted upon the poor civilised world as perfectly +sublime, appeared in the eyes of backwoodsmen and Indians utterly +ridiculous. No wonder that Harry, under the circumstances, became +quietly insane, and went about committing _nothing_ but mistakes the +whole evening. No wonder that he emulated his father-in-law in abusing +the gray cat, when he found it surreptitiously devouring part of the +supper in an adjoining room; and no wonder that, when he rushed about +vainly in search of Mrs. Taddipopple, to acquaint her with the cat’s +wickedness, he, at last, in desperation, laid violent hands on Miss +Cookumwell, and addressed that excellent lady by the name of Mrs. +Poppletaddy. + +Were we courageous enough to make the attempt, we would endeavour to +describe that joyful evening from beginning to end. We would tell you +how the company’s spirits rose higher and higher, as each individual +became more and more anxious to lend his or her aid in adding to the +general hilarity; how old Mr. Kennedy nearly killed himself in his +fruitless efforts to be everywhere, speak to everybody, and do +everything at once, how Charley danced till he could scarcely speak, +and then talked till he could hardly dance; and how the fiddler, +instead of growing wearied, became gradually and continuously more +powerful, until it seemed as if fifty fiddles were playing at one and +the same time. We would tell you how Mr. Addison drew more than ever to +Mr. Conway, and how the latter gentleman agreed to correspond regularly +with the former thenceforth, in order that their interest in the great +work each had in hand for the _same_ Master might be increased and kept +up; how, in a spirit of recklessness (afterwards deeply repented of), a +bashful young man was induced to sing a song which in the present +mirthful state of the company ought to have been a humorous song, or a +patriotic song, or a good, loud, inspiriting song, or _anything_, in +short, but what it was—a slow, dull, sentimental song, about wasting +gradually away in a sort of melancholy decay, on account of +disappointed love, or some such trash, which was a false sentiment in +itself, and certainly did not derive any additional tinge of +truthfulness from a thin, weak voice, that was afflicted with chronic +flatness, and _edged_ all its notes. Were we courageous enough to go +on, we would further relate to you how during supper Mr. Kennedy +senior, tried to make a speech, and broke down amid uproarious +applause; how Mr. Kennedy, junior, got up thereafter—being urged +thereto by his father, who said, with a convulsion of the cheek, “Get +me out of the scrape, Charley, my boy”—and delivered an oration which +did not display much power of concise elucidation, but was replete, +nevertheless, with consummate impudence; how during this point in the +proceedings the gray cat made a last desperate effort to purloin a cold +chicken, which it had watched anxiously the whole evening, and was +caught in the very act, nearly strangled, and flung out of the window, +where it alighted in safety on the snow, and fled, a wiser, and, we +trust, a better cat. We would recount all this to you, reader, and a +great deal more besides; but we fear to try your patience, and we +tremble violently, much more so, indeed, than you will believe, at the +bare idea of waxing prosy. + +Suffice it to say that the party separated at an early hour—a good, +sober, reasonable hour for such an occasion—somewhere before midnight. +The horses were harnessed; the ladies were packed in the sleighs with +furs so thick and plentiful as to defy the cold; the gentlemen seized +their reins and cracked their whips; the horses snorted, plunged, and +dashed away over the white plains in different directions, while the +merry sleigh-bells sounded fainter and fainter in the frosty air. In +half-an-hour the stars twinkled down on the still, cold scene, and +threw a pale light on the now silent dwelling of the old fur-trader. + + +Ere dropping the curtain over a picture in which we have sought +faithfully to portray the prominent features of those wild regions that +lie to the north of the Canadas, and in which we have endeavoured to +describe some of the peculiarities of a class of men whose histories +seldom meet the public eye, we feel tempted to add a few more touches +to the sketch; we would fain trace a little farther the fortunes of one +or two of the chief factors in our book. But this is not to be. + +Snowflakes and sunbeams came and went as in days gone by. Time rolled +on, working many changes in its course, and among others consigning +Harry Somerville to an important post in Red River colony, to the +unutterable joy of Mr. Kennedy, senior, and of Kate. After much +consideration and frequent consultation with Mr. Addison, Mr. Conway +resolved to make another journey to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ +to those Indian tribes that inhabit the regions beyond Athabasca; and +being a man of great energy, he determined not to await the opening of +the river navigation, but to undertake the first part of his expedition +on snow-shoes. Jacques agreed to go with him as guide and hunter, +Redfeather as interpreter. It was a bright, cold morning when he set +out, accompanied part of the way by Charley Kennedy and Harry +Somerville, whose hearts were heavy at the prospect of parting with the +two men who had guided and protected them during their earliest +experience of a voyageur’s life, when, with hearts full to overflowing +with romantic anticipations, they first dashed joyously into the almost +untrodden wilderness. + +During their career in the woods together, the young men and the two +hunters had become warmly attached to each other; and now that they +were about to part—it might be for years, perhaps for ever—a feeling of +sadness crept over them which they could not shake off, and which the +promise given by Mr. Conway to revisit Red River on the following +spring served but slightly to dispel. + +On arriving at the spot where they intended to bid their friends a last +farewell, the two young men held out their hands in silence. Jacques +grasped them warmly. + +“Mister Charles, Mister Harry,” said he, in a deep, earnest voice, “the +Almighty has guided us in safety for many a day when we travelled the +woods together; for which praised be His Holy Name! May He guide and +bless you still, and bring us together in this world again, if in His +wisdom He see fit.” + +There was no answer save a deeply-murmured “Amen.” In another moment +the travellers resumed their march. On reaching the summit of a slight +eminence, where the prairies terminated and the woods began, they +paused to wave a last adieu; then Jacques, putting himself at the head +of the little party, plunged into the forest, and led them away towards +the snowy regions of the Far North. + +THE END. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG FUR-TRADERS *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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