Though most out-of-door work comes to a standstill in winter, chopping
can still be carried on, fallen trees cut up and fresh trees cut down.
One of the customs of the country is to form a bee when any particular
piece of work has to be done in a hurry. Such as a log hut or a barn
raised, or some ground cleared.
The bees are the neighbours who come from far and near; they receive no
wages, but are fed well, and whiskey is served out too well while they
are at work. The more industrious among the settlers employed the time
in the house in making household furniture, mending their tools, and in
many other ways--not forgetting reading the Bible to their families.
The winter was already some way advanced when most of the inhabitants of
Thornhill were invited to chop trees and to put up a log hut, by a
gentleman, a Mr Sudbury, who had bought land about three miles off and
wished to get in some crops as soon as the snow was off the ground.
Michael Hale, and Rob, and John Kemp, and Mr Landon, and many others
went. They expected to clear half an acre of ground, and to get the
walls and roof of the log hut up in one day. Most of the settlers in
Thornhill were well, in spite of the cold, except Mrs Kemp. She had
for some time been ailing, and expected soon to give birth to another
child, Mrs Hale had gone in to have a chat with her, and to help her in
some household matters, when Tommy came running in breathless.
"What's the matter, Tommy; eh boy?" asked Mrs Hale.
"A big tree has come down at Mr Sudbury's clearing, and killed, or
pretty nigh killed, some one. Nobody knows who it is, but I hope it's
not father, nor Mr Hale either."
These words frightened both the wives, who wanted to set off at once.
"No, no, I'll go," said Mrs Hale. "You stay quiet at home, Mrs Kemp.
It's the only fit place for you."
Just then, one of the Miss Landon's came in to see Mrs Kemp. She said,
if Tony, who had come up with his mother, would go with her, she would
set off at once, with such things as were likely to be of use to the
sufferer, whoever he might be.
"You, Mrs Hale, stay and take care of Mrs Kemp," she said.
This Mrs Hale promised to do, for Mrs Kemp was looking very ill.
Mary Landon was a young girl of much sense. She hurried home, and
collected all the articles she might require.
Tony said that he knew a short cut, but as it was not beaten down it
could not be passed except on snow-shoes. His own he had brought with
him. Mary had lately learned to walk in them, and had a a pair ready.
They were wooden frames in shape something like an egg flattened out,
only sharp at both ends. The centre part was net-work of leather
thongs, like a very coarse sieve. They are fastened to the feet by
thongs of leather. From covering so much space, they do not sink into
the snow. On their feet, people in winter wear in the country soft
leather socks, called mocassins, with one or two pairs of thick worsted
socks inside. Mary's were made by an Indian woman, a squaw, as the
natives call their wives and daughters. They were worked prettily with
coloured porcupine-quills and beads.
Quickly putting on her snow-shoes, Mary set off with Tony. Both had
long sticks in their hands. They had got about half way, when Tony
looked up, and said, "I hope, Miss Landon, that you are not afraid of
bears."
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I see the fresh marks of one on the snow," he answered. "We
may meet the gentleman; if we do, we must attack him with our sticks,
and shout, and he will go off; but if we attempt to run, he'll gain
courage and follow."
Mary said that she would follow Tony's advice; but as she walked on, she
looked anxiously on one side and on the other, expecting to see the bear
appear. As to running away in snow-shoes, that she could not, and she
was afraid that, in attacking the bear, she might topple over, and he
might set on her.
"No fear, Miss Mary," said Tony, as he saw her looking about; "if he
does come, I'll give him a taste of the tip of my stick, and he'll soon
turn his tail to us; he is not far off, I see by his marks; he'll show
himself presently. Now don't run, Miss Mary, but shout out like a man,
as if you wasn't afraid."
Scarcely had Tony given this advice, than a brown, shaggy-coated bear
was seen moving along the snow between the trees. He soon caught sight
of the travellers, and sat up, watching them as they passed.
"I told you he wouldn't hurt us," said Tony; "we used to see plenty of
them where we were last." They had not, however, gone far, when Tony,
looking over his shoulder, cried out, "Here he comes though; but don't
fear, there's a rise a little farther on, and from the top of it we can
see Mr Sudbury's clearing." Still the bear followed, and got closer
and closer. Tony kept facing him every now and then. At last he cried
out, "Now's our turn, Miss Mary, turn round and shout as you never
shouted before." Mary did as she was advised, and Tony at the same time
setting up a loud shriek and hallo, and shaking his stick, the bear was
so astonished that he turned round and waddled off. Once or twice he
looked back, but Tony's shout made him hasten away faster than before.
Thus it will be seen, that though there are bears in Canada, they are
not much to be dreaded.
In a short time Mary and her companion arrived at the clearing. She
inquired anxiously who was the sufferer, for she knew that it might be
her own father as likely as any one else.
"It is John Kemp, he is there in the hut," was the answer.
"Bless you, Miss Mary," said Michael Hale, when he saw her come to
assist his friend; "but I'm afraid that help comes too late. The best
surgeon in the land couldn't cure him."
Poor John Kemp lay in a corner of the unfinished hut on a bed of spruce
fir tops, a fire lighted near to give him some warmth. He was moaning
and complaining of the cold. He had been cut by his axe as the tree
fell, which at the same time crushed one of his legs and hurt his side.
Mary bound up the wound more carefully than it had been done, and
fomented his side; but she saw that she could do no more, and advised
his being carried home at once. No surgeon was to be found nearer than
forty miles. One had been sent for, but it was very doubtful if he
could come. A litter of boughs was at once formed, and poor John,
wrapped up in buffalo robes, was at once placed on it, and Michael and
Rob Hale, and other members of the bee, undertook to carry him home. He
thanked his friends, and Mary in particular, but told them that he was
sure he should never get there. He did, however; but those who carried
him saw, as they drew near his cottage, that something was wrong.
Michael sent Tony on to ask. Tony came back shaking his head: some one
had told Mrs Kemp, in a hurry, that her husband was killed. The shock
was too great for one in her weak state. Just before her husband was
brought home, she had died, giving birth to a tenth child, "God's will
be done," whispered John Kemp, when he heard of his wife's death, "He
will take care of our poor orphan children."
Before the night was over John himself had rejoined his wife in another
world. His prayer was heard, and his faith in God's love rewarded. A
meeting of all the settlers was called. Mr Landon proposed raising a
subscription for the orphans. "That is not wanted," said Michael Hale,
"I will take charge of two of them, and more, if the rest do not find
homes--Fanny and Tommy shall become my children."
"And I will take another girl then," said Mr Landon; "and the poor
infant, my daughter will nurse it."
"I will take a boy," said Mr Sudbury.
Thus the children were quickly disposed of among some of the kindest and
best of the people in the settlement. The orphans became really and
truly their children, and were treated in no respects differently.
There was nothing uncommon in this. The same thing is done in all parts
of the province, and those who thus protect the orphans seldom fail to
receive a blessing on their homes. Fanny and Tommy soon learned to look
on Mr and Mrs Hale as their parents, and to render them the same
obedience and affection that they would have done had they really been
so.