After remaining a day at their first camp on the lake, our voyageurs
continued their journey. Their course lay a little to the west of
north, as the edge of the lake trended in that direction. Their usual
plan, as already stated, was to keep out in the lake far enough to shun
the numerous indentations of the shore, yet not so far as to endanger
their little craft when the wind was high. At night they always landed,
either upon some point or on an island. Sometimes the wind blew "dead
ahead," and then their day's journey would be only a few miles. When
the wind was favourable they made good progress, using the skin of the
wapiti for a sail. On one of these days they reckoned a distance of
over forty miles from camp to camp. It was their custom always to lie
by on Sunday, for our young voyageurs were Christians. They had done so
on their former expedition across the Southern prairies, and they had
found the practice to their advantage in a physical as well as a moral
sense. They required the rest thus obtained; besides, a general
cleaning up is necessary, at least, once every week. Sunday was also a
day of feasting with them. They had more time to devote to culinary
operations, and the _cuisine_ of that day was always the most varied of
the week. Any extra delicacy obtained by the rifle on previous days,
was usually reserved for the Sunday's dinner. On the first Sunday after
entering Lake Winnipeg the "camp" chanced to be upon an island. It was
a small island, of only a few acres in extent. It lay near the shore,
and was well wooded over its whole surface with trees of many different
kinds. Indeed, islands in a large lake usually have a great variety of
trees, as the seeds of all those sorts that grow around the shores are
carried thither by the waves, or in the crops of the numerous birds that
flit over its waters. But as the island in question lay in a lake,
whose shores exhibited such a varied geology, it was natural the
vegetation of the island itself should be varied. And, in truth; it was
so. There were upon it, down by the water's edge, willows and
cottonwoods (_Populus angulata_), the characteristic _sylva_ of the
prairie land; there were birches and sugar-maples (_Acer saccharinum_);
and upon some higher ground, near the centre, appeared several species
that belonged more to the primitive formations that bounded the lake on
the east. These were pines and spruces, the juniper, and tamarack or
American larch (_Laryx Americana_); and among others could be
distinguished the dark cone-shaped forms of the red cedar-trees. Among
the low bushes and shrubs there were rose and wild raspberry; there were
apple and plum trees, and whole thickets of the "Pembina" (_Viburnum
oxycoccos_). There is, in fact, no part of the world where a greater
variety of wild fruit has been found indigenous than upon the banks of
the Red River of the North, and this variety extended to the little
island where our voyageurs had encamped.
The camp had been placed under a beautiful tree--the tacamahac, or
balsam poplar (_Populus balsamifera_). This is one of the finest trees
of America, and one of those that extend farthest north into the cold
countries. In favourable situations it attains a height of one hundred
and fifty feet, with a proportionate thickness of trunk; but it is
oftener only fifty or eighty feet high. Its leaves are oval, and, when
young, of a rich yellowish colour, which changes to a bright green. The
buds are very large, yellow, and covered with a varnish, which exhales a
delightful fragrance, and gives to the tree its specific name.
It was near sunset on the afternoon of Saturday; the travellers had just
finished their repast, and were reclining around a fire of red cedar,
whose delicate smoke curled up among the pale-green leaves of the
poplars. The fragrant smell of the burning wood, mixed with the
aromatic odour of the balsam-tree, filled the air with a sweet perfume,
and, almost without knowing why, our voyageurs felt a sense of pleasure
stealing over them. The woods of the little island were not without
their voices. The scream of the jay was heard, and his bright azure
wing appeared now and then among the foliage. The scarlet plumage of
the cardinal grosbeak flashed under the beams of the setting sun; and
the trumpet-note of the ivory-billed woodpecker was heard near the
centre of the island. An osprey was circling in the air, with his eye
bent on the water below, watching for his finny prey; and a pair of bald
eagles (_Haliaetus leucocephalus_) were winging their way towards the
adjacent mainland. Half-a-dozen turkey vultures (_Cathartes atratus_)
were wheeling above the beach, where some object, fish or carrion, had
been thrown up by the waves.
For some time the party remained silent, each contemplating the scene
with feelings of pleasure. Francois, as usual, first broke the silence.
"I say, cook, what's for dinner to-morrow?"
It was to Lucien this speech was addressed. He was regarded as the
_maitre de cuisine_.
"Roast or boiled--which would you prefer?" asked the cook, with a
significant smile.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Francois; "boiled, indeed! a pretty boil we could
have in a tin cup, holding less than a pint. I wish we _could_ have a
boiled joint and a bowl of soup. I'd give something for it. I'm
precious tired of this everlasting dry roast."
"You shall have both," rejoined Lucien, "for to-morrow's dinner. I
promise you both the soup and the joint."
Again Francois laughed incredulously.
"Do you mean to make soup in your shoe, Luce?"
"No; but I shall make it in this."
And Lucien held up a vessel somewhat like a water-pail, which the day
before he had himself made out of birch-bark.
"Well," replied Francois, "I know you have got a vessel that holds
water, but cold water ain't soup; and if you can boil water in that
vessel, I'll believe you to be a conjuror. I know you can do some
curious things with your chemical mixtures; but that you can't do, I'm
sure. Why, man, the bottom would be burned out of your bucket before
the water got blood-warm. Soup, indeed!"
"Never mind, Frank, you shall see. You're only like the rest of
mankind--incredulous about everything they can't comprehend. If you'll
take your hook and line, and catch some fish, I promise to give you a
dinner to-morrow, with all the regular courses--soup, fish, boiled,
roast, and dessert, too! I'm satisfied I can do all that."
"_Parbleu_! brother, you should have been cook to Lucullus. Well, I'll
catch the fish for you."
So saying, Francois took a fish-hook and line out of his pouch, and
fixing a large grasshopper upon the hook, stepped forward to the edge of
the water, and cast it in. The float was soon seen to bob and then
sink, and Francois jerked his hook ashore with a small and very pretty
fish upon it of a silver hue, with which the lake and the waters running
into it abound. Lucien told him it was a fish of the genus _Hyodon_.
He also advised him to bait with a worm, and let his bait sink to the
bottom, and he might catch a sturgeon, which would be a larger fish.
"How do you know there are sturgeon in the lake?" inquired Francois.
"I am pretty sure of that," answered the naturalist; "the sturgeon
(_Acipenser_) is found all round the world in the northern temperate
zone--both in its seas and fresh waters; although, when you go farther
south into the warmer climate, no sturgeons exist. I am sure there are
some here, perhaps more than one species. Sink your bait, for the
sturgeon is a toothless fish, and feeds upon soft substances at the
bottom."
Francois followed the advice of his brother, and in a few minutes he had
a "nibble," and drew up and landed a very large fish, full three feet in
length. Lucien at once pronounced it a sturgeon, but of a species he
had not before seen. It was the _Acipenser carbonarius_, a curious sort
of fish found in these waters. It did not look like a fish that would
be pleasant eating; therefore Francois again took to bobbing for the
silver fish (_Hyodons_), which, though small, he knew to be excellent
when broiled.
"Come," said Basil, "I must furnish my quota to this famous dinner that
is to be. Let me see what there is on the island in the way of game;"
and shouldering his rifle, he walked off among the trees.
"And I," said Norman, "am not going to eat the produce of other people's
labour without contributing my share."
So the young trader took up his gun and went off in a different
direction.
"Good!" exclaimed Lucien, "we are likely to have plenty of meat for the
dinner. I must see about the vegetables;" and taking with him his
new-made vessel, Lucien sauntered off along the shore of the islet.
Francois alone remained by the camp, and continued his fishing. Let us
follow the plant-hunter, and learn a lesson of practical botany.
Lucien had not gone far, when he came to what appeared to be a mere
sedge growing in the water. The stalks or culms of this sedge were full
eight feet high, with smooth leaves, an inch broad, nearly a yard in
length, and of a light green colour. At the top of each stalk was a
large panicle of seeds, somewhat resembling a head of oats. The plant
itself was the famous wild rice (_Zizania aquatica_), so much prized by
the Indians as an article of food, and also the favourite of many wild
birds, especially the reed-bird or rice-bunting. The grain of the
zizania was not yet ripe, but the ears were tolerably well filled, and
Lucien saw that it would do for his purpose. He therefore waded in, and
stripped off into his vessel as much as he wanted.
"I am safe for rice-soup, at all events," soliloquised he, "but I think
I can do still better;" and he continued on around the shore, and
shortly after struck into some heavy timber that grew in a damp, rich
soil. He had walked about an hundred yards farther, when he was seen to
stoop and examine some object on the ground.
"It ought to be found here," he muttered to himself; "this is the very
soil for it,--yes, here we have it!"
The object over which he was stooping was a plant, but its leaves
appeared shrivelled, or rather quite withered away. The upper part of a
bulbous root, however, was just visible above the surface. It was a
bulb of the wild leek (_Allium tricoccum_.) The leaves, when young, are
about six inches in length, of a flat shape and often three inches
broad; but, strange to say, they shrivel or die off very early in the
season,--even before the plant flowers, and then it is difficult to find
the bulb.
Lucien, however, had sharp eyes for such things; and in a short while he
had rooted out several bulbs as large as pigeons' eggs, and deposited
them in his birchen vessel. He now turned to go back to camp, satisfied
with what he had obtained. He had the rice to give consistency to his
soup, and the leek-roots to flavour it with. That would be enough.
As he was walking over a piece of boggy ground his eye was attracted to
a singular plant, whose tall stem rose high above the grass. It was
full eight feet in height, and at its top there was an umbel of
conspicuous white flowers. Its leaves were large, lobed, and toothed,
and the stem itself was over an inch in diameter, with furrows running
longitudinally. Lucien had never seen the plant before, although he had
often heard accounts of it, and he at once recognised it from its
botanical description. It was the celebrated "cow parsnip" (_Heracleum
lanatum_). Its stem was jointed and hollow, and Lucien had heard that
the Indians called it in their language "flute-stem," as they often used
it to make their rude musical instruments from, and also a sort of
whistle or "call," by which they were enabled to imitate and decoy
several kinds of deer. But there was another use to which the plant was
put, of which the naturalist was not aware. Norman, who had been
wandering about, came up at this moment, and seeing Lucien standing by
the plant, uttered a joyful "Hulloh!"
"Well," inquired Lucien, "what pleases you, coz?"
"Why, the flute-stem, of course. You talked of making a soup. It will
help you, I fancy."
"How?" demanded Lucien.
"Why, the young stems are good eating, and the roots, if you will; but
the young shoots are better. Both Indians and voyageurs eat them in
soup, and are fond of them. It's a famous thing, I assure you."
"Let us gather some, then," said Lucien; and the cousins commenced
cutting off such stems as were still young and tender. As soon as they
had obtained enough, they took their way back to the camp. Basil had
already arrived with a fine _prairie hen (Tetrao cupido_) which he had
shot, and Norman had brought back a squirrel; so that, with Francois's
fish, of which a sufficient number had been caught, Lucien was likely to
be able to keep his promise about the dinner.
Francois, however, could not yet comprehend how the soup was to be
boiled in a wooden pot; and, indeed, Basil was unable to guess. Norman,
however, knew well enough, for he had travelled through the country of
the Assinoboil Indians, who take their name from this very thing. He
had also witnessed the operation performed by Crees, Chippewas, and even
voyageurs, where metal or earthen pots could not be obtained.
On the next day the mystery was cleared up to Basil and Francois.
Lucien first collected a number of stones--about as large as
paving-stones. He chose such as were hard and smooth. These he flung
into the cinders, where they soon became red-hot. The water and meat
were now put into the bark pot, and then one stone after another,--each
being taken out as it got cooled,--until the water came to a fierce
boil. The rice and other ingredients were added at the proper time, and
in a short while an excellent soup was made. So much, then, for the
soup, and the boiled dishes with vegetables. The roast, of course, was
easily made ready upon green-wood spits, and the "game" was cooked in a
similar way. The fish were broiled upon the red cinders, and eaten, as
is usual, after the soup. There were no puddings or pies, though, no
doubt, Lucien could have made such had they been wanted. In their place
there was an excellent service of fruit. There were strawberries and
raspberries, one sort of which found wild in this region is of a most
delicious flavour. There were gooseberries and currants; but the most
delicious fruit, and that which Francois liked best, was a small berry
of a dark blue colour, not unlike the huckleberry, but much sweeter and
of higher flavour. It grows on a low bush or shrub with ovate leaves;
and this bush when it blossoms is so covered with beautiful white
flowers, that neither leaves nor branches can be seen. There are no
less than four varieties of it known, two of which attain to the height
of twenty feet or more. The French Canadians call it "le poire," but in
most parts of America it is known as the "service-berry," although
several other names are given to it in different districts. Lucien
informed his companions, while they were crushing its sweet purplish
fruit between their teeth, that its botanical name is _Amelanchier_.
"Now," remarked Francois, "if we only had a cup of coffee and a glass of
wine, we might say that we had dined in fashionable style."
"I think," replied Lucien, "we are better without the wine, and as for
the other I cannot give you that, but I fancy I can provide you with a
cup of tea if you only allow me a little time."
"Tea!" screamed Francois; "why, there's not a leaf of tea nearer than
China; and for the sugar, not a grain within hundreds of miles!"
"Come, Frank," said Lucien, "nature has not been so ungenerous here,--
even in such luxuries as tea and sugar. Look yonder! You see those
large trees with the dark-coloured trunks. What are they?"
"Sugar-maples," replied Francois.
"Well," said Lucien, "I think even at this late season we might contrive
to extract sap enough from them to sweeten a cup of tea. You may try,
while I go in search of the tea-plant."
"Upon my word, Luce, you are equal to a wholesale grocery. Very well.
Come, Basil, we'll tap the maples; let the captain go with Luce."
The boys, separating into pairs, walked off in different directions.
Lucien and his companion soon lighted upon the object of their search in
the same wet bottom where they had procured the _Heracleum_. It was a
branching shrub, not over two feet in height, with small leaves of a
deep green colour above, but whitish and woolly underneath. It is a
plant well-known throughout most of the Hudson's Bay territory by the
name of "Labrador tea-plant;" and is so called because the Canadian
voyageurs, and other travellers through these northern districts, often
drink it as tea. It is one of the _Ericaceae_, or heath tribe, of the
genus _Ledum_--though it is not a true heath, as, strange to say, no
true heath is found upon the continent of America.
There are two kinds of it known,--the "narrow-leafed" and
"broad-leafed;" and the former makes the best tea. But the pretty white
flowers of the plant are better for the purpose than the leaves of
either variety; and these it was that were now gathered by Lucien and
Norman. They require to be dried before the decoction is made; but this
can be done in a short time over a fire; and so in a short time it was
done, Norman having parched them upon heated stones. Meanwhile Basil
and Francois had obtained the sugar-water, and Lucien having washed his
soup-kettle clean, and once more made his boiling stones red-hot,
prepared the beverage; and then it was served out in the tin cup, and
all partook of it. Norman had drunk the Labrador tea before, and was
rather fond of it, but his Southern cousins did not much relish it. Its
peculiar flavour, which somewhat resembles rhubarb, was not at all to
the liking of Francois. All, however, admitted that it produced a
cheering effect upon their spirits; and, after drinking it, they felt in
that peculiarly happy state of mind which one experiences after a cup of
the real "Bohea."