Before October was over bad weather came on, and the settlers who had
only just come to the country began to cry out that the winter would be
upon them before they were ready. They were, it is true, much
behindhand, for though many of them had far greater means than Michael
Hale and John Kemp, they had not their experience, and often threw away
much labour and time uselessly. They were wrong as to the weather, too,
for the Indian summer came, and this year it lasted nearly three weeks.
The air was pure and cool, though there was not a cloud in the sky, but
there was a haze which made the sun looker redder than his wont, and did
not let his rays strike as hot as they had done in the summer. It was a
very fine time, and the new settlers said that they had seen nothing
like it in the old country. The leaves on the trees too changed to all
sorts of bright colours--orange and yellow and pink and scarlet and
blue--till the wood looked like a big flower-garden; the beech turned to
a straw colour; the maple on one side was light green, and on the other
scarlet and yellow and pink and many other colours; the oak became of a
dark, shining copper, but there was more scarlet and yellow on most of
the trees than any other colour.
Among the settlers was a Mr Samuel Landon. He was a kind-hearted man,
and had good means, but had not had the practical experience which
Michael possessed, and which was of more value to him than money. Mr
Landon often came across to Michael's clearing to ask his advice. He
and his family had reached Canada at the same time as the Hales. He had
lived at the city of Montreal for some time, and spent much money; then
he had travelled about the country and spent more. That money would not
have been thrown away, but he bought land which he did not like, and
sold it at a loss. Now he had bought a second lot. Anybody looking at
his and Michael's lot at the end of the fall would have been able to say
which of the two was most likely in the course of a few years to be the
most prosperous settler.
Still Michael Hale was to have his trials. Few men go through life
without them. A letter came from Susan to say that she was ill and
wished to come home. She begged that some one would come and meet her.
Michael could not leave, and he wanted one big boy to help him, so it
was settled that Rob and Tony should go. They had a long journey before
them. First the voyage along the lake and down the river, and then a
long tramp through the forest of three or four days. There was no road,
but the trees were blazed they knew, and they had no doubt about finding
the way. "Fanny sends her love to Susan, and is very glad she is coming
home," said Mrs Kemp, as Rob went to wish her good-bye. Fanny was Mrs
Kemp's eldest girl, and a very pretty, good girl she was. Her next
girl, Ann, was not quite right in her mind, though she could do what she
was bid. Their next girl was too young to be of much use. There were
several boys--Bill, and Tommy, and John, all able to do something to
help their father. Just as Rob Hale was shoving off, Tommy Kemp, who,
though not so old as Tony, was a great friend of his, came running down
to the lake, and begged that he might go with them. They were glad of a
companion and took him in. They made very good way along the lake, but
the weather began to grow bad before they reached the mouth of the
river. Dark clouds gathered, the wind rose, the thunders roared, and
the lightning flashed brightly.
"Let us get on shore, for we shall have the rain down thick upon us,"
cried Tony. "We shall keep dry if we get under a tree." As he spoke a
flash of lightning struck a tall tree near the shore. It was split in a
moment from top to bottom, and a huge branch torn off.
"It is well that we were not on shore," said Rob. "Where should we have
been now if we had got under that tree? God saved us, for it is the
very place I thought of going in for shelter. There is a sandy point
farther on, we'll go there."
The lads drew their canoe up on the point; then they turned her bottom
up and got under her. They had just done this when the clouds seemed to
break open and empty their contents down on them. The wind roared, the
waves came rolling almost up to the canoe. They could scarcely hold it
down. All this time the thunder roared, and the lightning flashed, and
the crashing of falling trees was heard.
"Oh! oh! we are all going to be washed away!" cried Tommy in a fright.
"No fear, Tom," said Tony; "all we've to do is to hold on to the canoe,
and to our baskets of grub, and then, if we are washed away, we shall be
able to turn the canoe over and get into her."
This idea made poor Tommy happier till the wind ceased. When they got
out from under the canoe, they found that the wind had blown down the
trees right through the forest, just as if a broad road had been cut in
it, but it had not touched them either on one side or the other. There
were still some hours of daylight, so they paddled on. They passed many
canoes with Indians in them. They are made of the birch-bark, and sewed
together with thread made from the root of a shrub; the seams are then
covered over with gum and resin; the ribs are very thin, and made of
white cedar. They look very pretty, and are so light that two men can
carry one, which will hold eight or ten persons, a long way over land.
It is in this way that people travel in the wild parts where there are
many rivers. They paddle along the river till they come to the end of
it, and then two of them lift the canoe out of the water, and run along
over the ground--it may be a mile or it may be a dozen--till they come
to another river or lake, into which they launch it; the rest carry the
freight on their backs. In that way they go hundreds of miles across
North America, indeed almost from ocean to ocean.
The lads were going down the river, when they came near some very strong
rapids, with a fall of several feet beyond. When the river in the
spring was very full, this fall could be shot. Rob had got close to the
rapid before he saw how strong the current was running. To get to land
he turned the canoe round, and paddled across the river. There was a
small island just below where the canoe was. Rob wished to cross above
it. A tree with large branches had fallen, and stuck out into the
stream. "Lie down at the bottom of the canoe," said Rob to Tommy, who
looked frightened. "Now, Tony, paddle your best."
Do all they could, the canoe was carried quickly down by the current,
close to the island. At that moment, Tommy, seeing the tree, caught
hold of a branch, and swung himself up. As he did so, with a kick he
upset the canoe, and both Rob and Tony were thrown out of it. Away it
floated, but Rob and his brother had kept hold of their paddles; and
Rob, seizing Tony, swam with him to the island.
Tommy was too much frightened to know what he was about: and when his
weight brought the bough down into the water, instead of dragging
himself up he let go, and away he was swept by the current. "Oh save
me, Rob! save me! save me!" he cried out.
"Swim across the stream, lad, and I'll come to you," answered Rob, who
was carrying Tony to the island.
Instead of doing that, poor Tommy tried to swim up the stream, and of
course was carried lower and lower towards the rapid.
Rob found it a hard task to get Tony safe to land. As soon as he had
done so, the two scrambled across the island to see what had become of
poor Tommy and the canoe. They had not heard his voice for a minute or
more. He was not to be seen. An eddy had taken the canoe and carried
it nearly over to the other side. "That eddy will help us," said Rob:
"we must go and look for Tommy."
Tony did not like to go into the water again; but Rob, telling him to
hold on by the paddle, took the other end in his mouth, and swam boldly
off towards the canoe. Tony held on, striking with his legs, but he
could hardly help crying out for fear of sinking. He thought all the
time of Tommy, and what had become of him.
Rob swam on. He was very thankful to reach the canoe. He then made
Tony catch hold of it, and pushed it before them till they reached the
bank. They lost no time in drawing it on shore, and they looked round
for Tommy. He was not to be seen. Before they could launch the canoe
again they had to drag it over the grass a hundred yards or more. Once
more in the river below the falls they looked about on every side,
shouting Tommy's name. No answer came. It seemed too likely that he
was lost. They hunted for him round every rock, and among all the
bushes overhanging the stream, and the fallen trees floating in it, and
clinging to the bank with their roots. Not a sign was there of Tommy.
The evening was coming on; it was yet some way to the log hut, where
they proposed to stop for the night. Though they feared that he was
lost, they did not like to leave the place without finding his body.
They paddled first on one side of the stream, then on the other; then
they went up close to the falls. "We must give it up, I fear," said
Rob.
"Poor, poor Tommy! Oh dear! oh dear!" cried Tony. "Why did he go and
do it!"
"It will be sad news at home," said Rob. "I am thankful that it wasn't
you, Tony; but I had rather it had been anybody but Tommy."
"Don't let us give up, then," said Tony. "May be he's farther down the
stream. I won't believe that he's dead till I see him dead."
Strive to the last. That is a good principle. It was one Tony held to,
young as he was. They slowly paddled down the stream, looking about
them as before. There was a small island some way down like the one
above the falls. They paddled up to it, and were going round it, when a
log of timber was seen caught in the branches of a tree, which had been
blown down, and hung into the water. On the inner end sat Tommy,
clinging to the bough above his head. He still seemed too much scared
to know exactly what he was about. When his friends shouted his name,
he only answered, "Yes; here I am." Tony, in his joy at getting him
back alive, gave him a hug which nearly again upset the canoe. Tommy
seemed scarcely to know what had happened, and thought that he was still
on the island above the falls. It seemed that he had got hold of the
log as it was floating by, and that he was carried with it over the
falls, and thus his life was saved. The three lads now paddled on till,
just at dark, they reached Roland's shanty, as it was called.
Roland, an old Scotchman, was an oddity. He called his shanty the White
Stag Hotel; and had, chalked up on a board, a figure, under which he had
written "The White Stag. Accommodation for man and beast." Except,
however, a gallon of whiskey, a jar of beef-tallow, and some Indian-corn
bread, he had nothing to set before his guests. The bread and tallow
was washed down with burnt-crust coffee, as they did not touch the
whiskey. "I ken ye'd be glad o' that if ye was lost in the woods," he
said, when he saw the faces of the lads. "What mair can ye want? Dry
your clothes, and then there are your beds for ye." He pointed to a
heap of spruce fir tops, in a corner of the hut. Though the food was
coarse, and their beds rough, the lads slept soundly. They had food of
their own, but they wished to husband that for the woods, where they
might get none.
Leaving the canoe under charge of Roland, the next morning they began
their tramp through the forest. The trees were blazed, and there was a
beaten track all the way. They were well-known to Roland, and as they
were setting off he offered Rob the loan of his gun, with some shot and
powder, he having had one left by a settler, who had not come back for
it. With a good supply of food on their shoulders, and axes in their
belts, they went on merrily.