IN DESPERATE STRAITS
As they advanced toward where the two men were standing, Jean was
somewhat afraid lest they might be slashers. This fear, however, was
at once removed when she beheld their pitiable condition. Their
clothes were in tatters, and their bearded faces were drawn and
haggard. They stared at her with eyes from which all hope had fled,
and so weak did they seem that they could hardly stand. Their backs
were bent as if through age, and they rested their hands upon the
loaded sled for support. As Jean paused, smitten by a sudden feeling
of awe, one of the men wearily lifted his hand and beckoned to her.
"Who are you?" she asked, when she had drawn near.
"We are as dead men," was the hollow reply. "But in God's name, who
are you?"
"I am Jean Sterling, daughter of Colonel Sterling. I was carried away
from home, but was rescued by these Indians, who are now taking me back
to my father."
"Ay, we heard of you, did we not, James?" the man enquired, turning to
his companion.
"Ay, we heard of you, Miss, on our way here, as William says," the
other replied, "But so great have been our own cares and sorrows since
then that we have forgotten about you."
"Do you live here?" Jean asked, wondering who these men could be.
"No, no, not living, but dying here, we and our wives and children. We
are Loyalists, Miss, who arrived with the Fall Fleet. We came up the
river in open boats, mistook this river one night for the main channel,
and were frozen in here before morning. Our sufferings have been
great. We are starving to death. Though," he added after a slight
pause, "there are not so many to provide for now."
"What! have some died?" Jean asked.
"Seven, Miss, mostly little ones. They are all under the snow, and the
rest of us will soon be with them."
"Come, come, you must not give up yet," the girl encouraged. "Sam and
Kitty will help you, I am sure. Where do you live?"
"Just over there," and the man motioned to the right. "It's a poor
place, and the last storm was terribly hard on us."
"Take me there, then," Jean ordered. "I want to see your women and
children."
A feeling of responsibility had suddenly come to her such as she had
never before known. These two men before her were in the depths of
despair, so something had to be done to arouse and stimulate them with
courage. Hitherto she herself had been dependent upon others, and
followed their guidance. But now it was different. Here were people
in a strange land, and in difficult circumstances who had for the time
lost their grip of things, and needed special assistance. It all came
upon her in a flash, transforming her from a follower to a leader; from
dependent girlhood to the glory of responsible womanhood.
Guided by the two men, they soon reached the encampment but a hundred
yards away. At sight of this Jean stopped and stared in profound
amazement. It was no wonder that the women and children huddled there
were cold. The ones who had fashioned these rude abodes were evidently
unacquainted with life in the open, so desolate was the place, and with
very little protection from the driving storms.
There were about ten families in all encamped here, and at the first
glance Jean could tell that they were actually starving. The women,
who received her kindly, presented as brave an appearance as possible.
But their faces were worn and haggard, showing plainly the sufferings
they had endured. The children, especially the younger ones, looked
better, having no doubt received extra food and attention.
The arrival of the visitors caused considerable excitement and interest
among the Loyalists. Men, women, and children all crowded around one
fire, and listened with wonder to the tale Jean related of her capture,
and how she was rescued by the two good Indians. She in return heard
the pathetic story of these unfortunate people from the time they left
their old homes until the present.
"It was bad enough," one woman said, "when we were all well. But when
the babies began to pine and die for want of proper nourishment, then
it was terrible. We gave them the best of everything, and tried to
keep them warm, even pressing them against our own bodies. But it was
all in vain, so we laid the little darlings to rest one by one. They
are better off, I suppose, but it was very hard on us."
Her eyes, and the eyes of all were brimming with tears. Jean was
deeply affected, and her heart went out in sympathy to these
unfortunate people. She glanced about the rough brush abodes, and
noted how few and thin were the blankets.
"You have very little bedding, I see," she remarked.
"Not nearly enough," was the reply. "We had no idea that winter would
come so soon, so sent most of everything on the _Polly_."
"Are you out of provisions, too?"
"We have been out of food for days, excepting the few rabbits the men
caught. There are moose in the woods, but our men have not the skill
or strength to get any."
During this conversation Jean's mind had been very active. She knew
that something had to be done, and at once, if these people were to be
saved from starvation. She turned away and walked over to where Sam
and Kitty were erecting a little lean-to in the midst of a small
thicket of fir and spruce trees.
"Sam, I want you to do something for those people," she at once began.
"They are starving."
"White man all sam' crazee," the Indian replied. "Camp bad, ugh!"
"I know that, Sam, so you must show them how to build good ones like
your lodge by the lake. Will you?"
"A-ha-ha, bimeby, mebbe."
"They are starving, too, Sam, so I want you to get something for them
to eat. Will you go at once? Kitty and I will finish this lean-to."
Sam, however, made no reply, but went on with his work.
"You will go, won't you?" she pleaded. "They are King George's people,
and were driven out of their own country. I know you will help them."
These words had the desired effect, and electrified the Indian to keen
interest. That they were King George's people was all-sufficient. He
spoke to Kitty, who produced two wire snares from one of their bundles,
and handed them to her husband. Sam then picked up his gun and turned
to Jean.
"Me go now," he said. "Come bimeby. Get bird, mebbe."
In another minute he was away, and Jean turned her attention to the
building of the lean-to. As the Indian woman began to prepare supper,
Jean longed to take some of the meat to the needy ones. But it was so
small that it would be of little use. She could only hope that Sam
would return with a good supply of birds.
Neither was she disappointed, for shortly after dark the Indian
appeared carrying several plump partridges he had snared. These were
soon prepared and speedily cooked, so this night the Loyalists had a
better supper than usual.
Sam now directed his attention to the rude abodes, and as he examined
them he emitted several grunts of disgust. Early the next morning he
found an excellent camping-spot, and took Jean over to see it.
"Good camp here," he told her. "Plenty tree, plenty wood."
"Will you help those people to build new lodges?" she asked.
"A-ha-ha, Sam help."
"And can you get more meat? Perhaps you can shoot a moose."
"Sam get feesh bimeby. Kai-u-hus, mebbe."
"What is that?"
"All sam' rat. Swim in water, build house."
"Do you mean muskrat?"
"A-ha-ha. White man call'm 'Injun turkey.' Good."
"You are a great man, Sam. You saved my life, and now you are saving
the lives of those poor people."
"Sam glad," was the quiet reply. "Sam King George man. Sam help King
George peep'l."
Jean went over and explained to the Loyalists Sam's idea about building
the new abodes. They were much pleased at this suggestion, and the men
at once followed Sam to the spot he had chosen, and began work. After
he had given them full instructions, and helped them to make a start
upon their new homes, he provided himself with a small supply of food,
and started forth upon a hunting expedition. He took with him his sled
and a single blanket.
"Will you be away all night?" Jean asked as she stood watching him ere
his departure.
"Mebbe. See bimeby."
"Don't stay too long, Sam, for if you do we shall all starve. Kitty
says that we have very little food left."
The Indian smiled as he stooped and arranged his right snow-shoe.
"Kitty no starve, Babby no starve," he replied. "Sam come bimeby.
Plenty grub."
This was an anxious day for Jean, as she was well aware that the entire
camp was on the verge of starvation. The children were already picking
and sucking the bones of the partridges, and there was no food in the
place. Even the little they had brought with them was gone, so she and
Kitty went without any dinner. She did her best to cheer and encourage
the dispirited Loyalists, telling them that Sam would soon return with
plenty of meat. He was their sole dependence now, and suppose anything
should happen to him! But she had confidence in his skill and
judgment, so hoped for the best.
Much of the day she spent with the women and children, listening to the
hardships they had endured, and playing with the little ones. At times
she visited the men, and watched them as they toiled bravely at their
houses. They were weak and hungry, but they uttered no word of
complaint. Occasionally she saw them gnawing and chewing the bark of
tender birch twigs, while some tried to find sustenance in pine,
spruce, and cedar cones. But for the hope that Sam would return with a
supply of food, they would have given up in despair.
The day was drawing to a close when the women and children were
transferred to their new abodes. Fires were burning brightly, and
fresh fir boughs made soft beds. The children were delighted with this
change, and the expression in the women's eyes showed their pleasure.
As Jean watched the mothers making up the beds for the night she
noticed how few and thin were the blankets. She well knew that they
must have more clothing if they were to be kept from perishing during
the long winter ahead. And other food they must have than meat,
especially the children. Her mind turned naturally to the King's
mast-cutters. She must go to them, for no doubt they had a supply of
provisions on hand, as well as extra blankets. She was sure that they
would be willing to help these needy people.
At first she thought of getting Sam and Kitty to go. But thinking the
matter over, she decided that it would be better to go herself. The
Indians might not be able to explain fully the serious condition of the
Loyalists, or else the mast-cutters might not pay much attention to
what they said. She mentioned this to no one, however, preferring to
wait until Sam returned that she might talk it over with him.
There was little rest that night for the older ones. The hungry
children had cried themselves to sleep, while the helpless parents
watched and listened with heavy hearts. They were beyond tears now,
having shed so many in the past. The men were weary to the point of
exhaustion after their day's work without any food. As they huddled
there they often cast anxious glances out into the night, hoping to see
the Indian coming from the forest. They themselves had done the best
they could to provide game, but they were unused to hunting, and when
they became weakened through lack of food, they were able to do but
little. All they could do now was to trust to the Indian and await his
return.
Jean decided to watch with Kitty, as she felt sure that Sam would come
back before morning. But as the hours wore on, her eyes became heavy.
The bed of fir boughs and blankets was comfortable, so at length she
passed into a sound sleep, leaving Kitty awake and watchful.
When she opened her eyes it was daylight, and the delicious odor of
frying meat pervaded the air. Kitty was stooping before the fire,
while Sam was squatting but a short distance away. They both turned
and smiled as the girl awoke and spoke to them.
"When did you get back, Sam?" she asked.
"Short tam' go. Plenty meat now."
"Oh, I am so glad! What did you get?"
"Feesh, Injun turkey, hut-tok."
"What, a deer!" Jean exclaimed, for she knew the meaning of the Indian
word.
"A-ha-ha, hut-tok. Beeg."
"Good for you, Sam! You are a great hunter. Where is the deer?"
"White man eat'm," he replied with a smile.
"And did you haul it into camp?"
"A-ha-ha. Sam strong, beeg."
This supply of meat was a God-send to all, and there was great
rejoicing among the Loyalists. They praised the Indian for what he had
done, and he was looked upon as a hero, especially by the children.
When breakfast was over, and Sam was enjoying his pipe near the fire,
Jean spoke to him about going to the mast-cutters for assistance. The
Indian listened intently, and when the girl had finished speaking, he
remained for awhile in deep silence.
"Can we do it?" Jean at length asked. "How far is it?"
"Sam go wan sleep, babby two sleep," was the reply.
Jean smiled as she drew herself to her full height.
"Don't you think I can do it in one sleep as well as you?" she
bantered. "Why, I am strong now, almost like an Indian."
"Babby no all sam' Injun yet," Sam reminded. "Bimeby, mebbe."
"But will you go, Sam?"
"A-ha-ha. Wan sleep, Sam go."
"In the morning?"
"Mebbe. Sam see."
With this Jean had to be content. She was pleased that the Indian was
willing to go with her, although she was well aware that he would start
only when he was ready. She talked it over with the women, and a new
hope rose in their hearts when they learned about the King's
mast-cutters.
"What should we have done without you?" one woman remarked with a sob
in her voice. "The Lord surely must have sent you and those Indians
just when our needs were so great. We can never repay you for what you
have done for us."