yard, they noticed that one after another of them was an Indian. To see
an Indian engaged in such work as this seemed astonishing, for it
had been a fixed belief in their minds that no Indian will engage in
continuous hard labor; yet here was a fact which contradicted all former
opinions. What was more surprising was the gradual discovery that not
one, or two, or a few, but the whole gang of men at work in and about
the mill were of the same race.
They worked doggedly, ploddingly, industriously; some floating logs,
some carrying deals, some attaching the ropes to those logs that had to
be hauled up; all busy, none idling.
“I never knew that Indians would work,” said Bart to Mr. Smith.
“These Indians work very well,” said he.
“Yes; and that is what is so astonishing. Of course I knew that Indians
will go through any amount of fatigue in the course of a hunting
expedition, but I have always heard that they are incapable of hard
work.”
“Well, as to being incapable, I have my doubts about that,” said Mr.
Smith. “They cannot be incapable; they are only unwilling. Continuous
drudgery like this does not suit them as a general thing. But these
Indians don’t object. They work hard, never complain, and I have never
had any men who have given so little trouble.”
“It seems very odd, though,” said Bart. “I’m sure no other Indians in
this country would be willing to work in this way. No amount of wages
would tempt them.”
“No. That’s true. The fact is, these Indians belong to a different
tribe.”
“A different tribe?”
“Yes. The Indians that you are acquainted with, who live in Nova Scotia
and the greater part of New Brunswick, are called the Micmacs. These
are called the Milicetes. The language of the two tribes is altogether
distinct; their traditions, manners, and customs also vary in many
particulars. Between the two tribes there is no intercourse and no
friendly feeling whatever. You see here with your own eyes how different
they must be from the other tribe, with which you are acquainted.”
Midday came, and as the steam whistles sounded, all hands left off work
and prepared for dinner. Their dinners had been brought to them by the
squaws of the tribe who had come to the mill bringing their pappooses
with them. Men, women, and children then sat in a circle, in the midst
of the mill yard, and engaged in their midday repast, while the boys
looked on curiously from a distance.
Among these Indians there was one who had come up with the women, and
seemed to have some sort of authority. He did not work in the mill,
but had the air and tone of one giving directions, to which the others
yielded assent or obedience. There was something in this Indian which
seemed familiar to Bart, though he could not account for it. He was the
first who noticed him, and he mentioned it to the others; but they
were equally unable to do so. At length, as several of the boys grouped
themselves together, it seemed to Bart as though the Indian had some
recognition of them. There were Bart, and Phil, and Pat, and the two
Rawdons; and as the Indian looked up, he caught sight of them, with
Bart in the foreground. He started, and then turned his head away, and
appeared to busy himself with something else.
He was a very old man, somewhat bent, his face seamed with a million
wrinkles; but his figure was still strong, sinewy, and apparently
capable of undergoing fatigue or exertion to an indefinite extent. He
turned away, as has been said, but every few moments he threw a furtive
glance at the boys.
And now it happened that Solomon came up from the schooner to ask
whether the boys were to get dinner on board or on shore. He came up to
where the Indians were seated, and it was evident that they had never
seen a negro before, for the advent of Solomon created an extraordinary
sensation. The women drew back, the children screamed, the men stared,
and all gave signs of unusual excitement. But among all, none showed
such excitement as the old man already mentioned.
As Solomon drew near, he saw him first, and started to his feet,
staring at him with a face upon which there was a variety of contending
expressions; curiosity, wonder, uneasiness, alarm--all these were
plainly visible at the same time on that old Indian’s face.
But the emotion of the Indian found its counterpart in that which was
manifested by Solomon, as the Indian caught sight of him and started
to his feet. The attention of Solomon was arrested by that movement. He
stopped short, and fixed his eyes upon the Indian. His hands clinched
themselves together; his lips compressed themselves; his limbs grew
rigid; while his eyes seemed to glow like fire. Again the old man
was transformed; again that wonderful change took place from apparent
feebleness, and even decrepitude, to something which seemed like the
bounding vigor and vehement energy of barbaric manhood. His chest
heaved; he seemed like some wild beast, as he stood there, gathering up
all his energies for one tremendous spring.
On the other hand, the Indian saw it, and drew himself up to resist the
assault. He fell back a step or two, and mechanically threw himself into
an attitude of defence. His gesture was seen by his companions. They
looked up to where his eyes were turned, and they marked the threatening
attitude of Solomon. In an instant every one of them started up to his
feet, and by one common movement put themselves in front of their old
companion, as though to guard him from the attack of this unexpected
enemy.
Upon the boys these singular proceedings produced different effects.
Bart and his companions in the woods at once recognized the truth. The
old Indian was no other than their false guide, who had first turned
upon them to attack them, and then fled, leaving them in the midst of
the trackless forest. This was the man who now appeared before them in
the midst of his own people, who certainly deserved some punishment
for all that he had done, but who seemed to be out of the reach of any
punishment, unless, indeed, Solomon should take the law into his own
hands. But Bruce and the others, who had never seen the Indian before,
stood simply amazed, not knowing what to make of such a singular scene.
They had heard of the adventure in the woods with the Indian guide, but
what they had heard did not suffice to afford them a clew to the affair
before them.
For a few moments they stood thus, Solomon threatening, the Indians
scowling, the boys looking on. But Solomon, though poised to spring,
hesitated, as he saw all the enemies before him. Had it been only the
old Indian, he would have leaped upon him at once; but with so many
other Indians, it was a different matter. Very naturally, therefore,
Solomon hesitated, and faltered, and sank down from his high pitch of
fury, at thus being confronted with the impossible.
It was at this juncture that Mr. Smith approached. He surveyed the scene
with surprise and anxiety, and walking forward, hastily he asked what
it all meant. The advent of one thus clothed with authority produced an
instantaneous effect. The Indians turned away, and talked in low tones
with one another; Solomon subsided from his fighting attitude into one
of vehement denunciation; and Bart proceeded to tell Mr. Smith the whole
story.
Mr. Smith listened to it all with the deepest interest.
“It’s abominable of Sam,” said he, as Bart ended, “and if it had been
any one else, I should like to have him punished. But with Sam it
is different, and I can easily explain it. Sam is the chief of these
Milicetes, and generally is all that a chief should be. The only trouble
with him is, that, like all Indians, he is fond of liquor. When he gets
any, it makes him simply insane. He stays about here most of the time,
and in this place he can’t get a single drop. Consequently he is a very
sensible, dignified, and respectable Indian. He is looked up to with
the utmost respect by his people, and he and I agree perfectly well.
Unfortunately, when he goes away, he generally manages to get liquor.
He can’t resist temptation. He went off, about a fortnight ago, to
Miramichi, where you found him. Before starting with you, he supplied
himself with that unfortunate bottle of liquor. Had it not been for
that, you would have found him an admirable guide, and he would have
brought you here without any difficulty. But his bottle drove him crazy,
and caused that wild outbreak. I don’t believe he remembers much about
it himself. He must have come straight back to Shippegan after leaving
you.”
This explanation proved highly satisfactory to the boys, who readily
forgave the Indian for an outbreak that had been produced by such an
unfortunate cause; and even Solomon, on learning that it had not been
out of any malicious intention, consented to forego his vengeance.
After this, Mr. Smith had some conversation with the Indian himself,
who, as he suspected, remembered nothing about his outbreak in the
woods.
He only remembered that he had engaged to go with the boys, and had got
separated from them, he knew not how. He expressed great sorrow, and
tried, in his broken English, to explain and to apologize.
Thus this affair was all happily settled.
The boys spent one more day in Shippegan, and then prepared to depart.
On the following morning they bade adieu to Mr. Grousset and his amiable
family, who begged them, with great earnestness, to visit them again,
which they all promised to do. Mr. Smith accompanied them to the wharf,
and shook hands with them all around. Up went the sails, the lines were
cast off, and the Antelope passed down the long harbor and out into the
bay.