A TERRIFIC SNOWSTORM--KEPENAU'S TIMELY APPEARANCE--WE VISIT KEPENAU'S
CAMP--HIS HOSPITALITY--AN INDIAN'S DREAD OF THE "FIRE WATER"--WE BID
ADIEU TO OUR INDIAN FRIENDS--OUR ARRIVAL AT THE LOGGING ENCAMPMENT--
JACQUES MICHAUD TAKES A FANCY TO MIKE--JACQUES' RAFT STORY--MY UNCLE AND
I START ON OUR RETURN--WE ARE ATTACKED BY A FIERCE PACK OF WOLVES, AND
ARE SAVED BY KEPENAU AND HIS MEN--MIKE LAFFAN IN A DIFFICULTY--WE RESCUE
HIM--ASHATEA, KEPENAU'S DAUGHTER--MY VISIT TO LILY--MR. AND MRS.
CLAXTON--DORA AND REUBEN--REUBEN VISITS OUR HUT--THE MARTEN AND
PORCUPINE--AN OPOSSUM-HUNT.
The snow had for some time been falling lightly, but the wind which had
arisen blew it off the ice, and thus it did not impede our progress; but
that same wind, which was now by a turn of the river brought directly
ahead of us, soon increased in strength, and drove the particles of
snow, sharp as needles, into our faces. Indeed, the cold every instant
became more intense, while the snow fell more thickly.
"Faix, and it's moighty loike a shower of penknives, mixed with needles
and pins!" cried Mike. "It's a hard matther to keep the eyes open.
What will we be afther doing, Mr Mark, if it gets worse?"
"We'll go on till it does get worse," said Uncle Mark. "It would not do
to turn back now."
Mike said no more, but, bending down his head, worked away manfully with
might and main.
I did my best to keep up, but I may say that seldom have I endured such
suffering. At last I felt that I could stand it no longer; so I
proposed to my uncle that we should make for the shore, and there build
a hut, light a fire, and wait till the storm was over.
He was, however, bent upon going on. "We should be half-frozen before
we could get up a wigwam," he answered.
Just then I heard a voice hailing us in gruff tones, and I guessed it
was that of an Indian; but we had no reason to dread the Indians of
these parts. As we looked about to see from whence it proceeded, I
caught sight of the tops of two or three wigwams just peeping out from a
cedar-bush at a little distance from the shore.
"Friends, come here!" exclaimed some one, and we observed an Indian
making towards us; whereupon we turned round and skated up to him.
"Ah, friends! I know you," he said. "You cannot face the storm, which
will soon blow stronger still. Come to my wigwam, where you shall have
shelter till it has passed by."
As he spoke I recognised my old friend Kepenau, whom I had not seen
since we had come to our present location. I had so grown, too, that he
did not at first recognise me.
Having taken off our skates, we followed him to his camp, where he
introduced us to several other Indians and their squaws, among whom were
a number of children of all ages.
The thick cedar-bushes sheltered the spot completely from the wind, and
the fire which burned in the centre afforded us a welcome warmth; for,
in spite of the exercise we had gone through, our blood was chilled by
the piercing snowstorm. The Indians were dressed partly in skins, and
partly in garments made of blankets, received from the white men; most
of the squaws wore a large blanket over their heads, forming a cloak in
which they were shrouded. The wigwams were constructed of long thin
poles, fastened at the top, and spread out in a conical form, the whole
being covered thickly with slabs of birch-bark.
Our red-skinned hosts put us at once at our ease; and I asked Kepenau
how he came to be in that part of the country.
"The white men compelled us to move westward," he answered. "They have
planted on our lands, and shot the game on which we subsisted; and
though I should have been content to remain among them and adopt their
customs, yet my people wished to live as our fathers have lived; and I
would not desert them. My desire is to instruct them in the truths I
have myself learned; and it is only by dwelling with them, and showing
them that I love them, that I can hope to do that."
We had much interesting conversation with Kepenau, and I was surprised
at the amount of information on religious subjects which he possessed;
indeed. I confess that he put us all to shame.
Uncle Mark looked grave, and sighed. "I used once to read my Bible, and
listen gladly to God's Word read and preached, when I lived with my good
father and mother in the `old country,' though I have sadly neglected it
since I came out here," he said; "but I will do so no longer. You have
reminded me of my duty, friend Kepenau."
"What you say makes me glad. Keep to your resolve, for you cannot do
God's will without reading his Word, to know what that will is,"
remarked Kepenau.
Our host gave up one of the wigwams for our special use, in the centre
of which a fire burned, prevented from spreading by a circle of stones.
The ground around the sides was covered with thick rushes which served
as our beds, and we lay with our feet towards the fire. Severe as was
the cold outside, and thin as appeared the walls, the heat from the fire
kept us thoroughly warm; and I never slept more soundly in my life, for,
although our hosts were Redskins, we felt as secure as in our own hut.
Notwithstanding that the storm raged without, the wigwams were so well
protected by the cedar-bushes that the fierce wind failed to reach us.
In the morning, when we came out of our wigwam we found that the squaws
had prepared breakfast; which consisted of dried venison, cakes made
from Indian corn, and fish which had been caught before the frost set
in, and had remained hard-frozen ever since.
"You can now continue your journey, for the storm has ceased; and may
the Great Spirit protect you!" observed Kepenau, looking up at the sky,
across which the clouds were now scarcely moving.
Uncle Mark inquired why he did not bring his camp nearer the settlement.
"I will tell you," answered Kepenau. "Though I have been ever friendly
with the white men, and value the advantages to be obtained from them,
there is one thing for which I fear them,--their accursed `fire water.'
Already it has slain thousands of my people, or reduced them to a state
lower than the brutes which perish; and I know not whether my young men
would resist the temptation were it placed in their way."
"But all the white men do not sell the `fire water' of which you speak,"
observed Uncle Mark. "I have none in my hut."
"But while one among you possesses the poison, and is ready to barter it
with my people, the harm may be done," answered Kepenau. "Until I am
sure that none of the `fire water' exists in your settlement, I will not
allow my people to come near it."
"I am afraid, then, that you will fail to civilise them, as you desire,"
observed Uncle Mark.
"Do you call it civilising them, to teach them the vices of the white
men?" exclaimed the Indian in a tone of scorn. "If so, then I would
rather that they remained savages, as you call them, than obtain
knowledge at such a price."
"I believe that you are right," answered Uncle Mark, as we bade our host
and his family good-bye; "and I have learned more than one lesson from
you."
Kepenau accompanied us to the bank of the river; where we put on our
skates, and continued our course without interruption till we caught
sight of several thin wreaths of smoke above the tops of the trees.
"Sure, that smoke must come from the lumberers' fires," observed Mike.
"Such is probably the case; but it is just possible that it may proceed
from a camp of Indians, who might not be so friendly as those we left
this morning," said my uncle.
Still we were not to be stopped, and on we skated. Even should we meet
enemies, we had not much cause to fear them, unless they possessed
firearms. On we went, I say, gliding along at the rate of ten or twelve
miles an hour; and as I had never before had an opportunity of
performing so great a distance, I enjoyed it amazingly.
As we advanced we caught sight of numerous logs of timber hauled out
into the middle of the stream. Shortly afterwards the sound of voices
reached our ears, and we saw a number of men scattered about--some
engaged, with gleaming axes, in felling trees; others with horses
dragging the trunks, placed on sleighs, over the hard snow on to the
ice. They were there arranged alongside each other, and bound together
so as to form numerous small rafts. Here they would remain until the
giving way of the frost; when, on the disappearance of the ice, they
would be floated down towards the mouth of the river and towed across
the lake to the various saw-mills on its banks.
We were glad to be welcomed by the "boss;" who at once engaged Uncle
Mark and Mike to hew, while I was to undertake the less onerous task of
driving a team.
The shores of the river had been already pretty well cleared of large
timber, so that I had to bring the trunks from some distance.
Uncle Mark and Laffan soon showed that they were well practised axemen.
Our companions were to spend some months engaged in the occupation I
have described; till the return of spring, in fact, when, the rafts
being put together, they would descend the river till rapids or
cataracts were reached. The rafts would then be separated, and each log
of timber, or two or three together at most, would be allowed to make
their way as they best could down the fall, till they reached calm water
at the foot of it; when they would be again put together, and navigated
by the raftsmen guiding them with long poles. In some places, where
rough rocks exist in the rapids by which the timber might be injured,
slides had been formed. These slides are channels, or rather canals, as
they are open at the top; and are constructed of thick boards--just as
much water being allowed to rush down them as will drive on the logs.
Some of these slides are two hundred feet long; others reach even to the
length of seven hundred feet. The timbers are placed on cribs,--which
are frames to fit the slides,--then, with a couple of men on them to
guide their course, when they get through they shoot away at a furious
rate down the inclined plane, and without the slightest risk of injury.
When evening approached we all assembled in a huge shanty, which had
been built under the shelter of the thick bush. Round it were arranged
rows of bunks, with the cooking-stove in the centre, which was kept
burning at all hours, and served thoroughly to warm our abode. On each
side of the stove were tables, with benches round them. Here we took
our meals; which, although sufficient, were not too delicate,--salt pork
being the chief dish. Rough as were the men, too, they were tolerably
well-behaved; but quarrels occasionally took place, as might have been
expected among such a motley crowd.
On the first evening of our arrival Mike's fiddle attracted universal
attention, and he was, of course, asked to play a tune.
"Why thin, sure, I will play one with all the pleasure in life," he
answered. "And, sure, some of you gintlemen will be afther loiking to
take a dance;" and without more ado he seated himself on the top of a
bench at the further end of the shanty, and began to scrape away with
might and main, nodding his head and kicking his heels to keep time.
The effect was electrical. The tables were quickly removed to the sides
of the shanty; and every man, from the "boss" downwards, began shuffling
away, circling round his neighbour, leaping from the ground, and
shrieking at the top of his voice.
When Mike's fiddle was not going, our lumbering companions were wont to
spin long yarns, as we sat at the supper-table. Several of them had
worked up the northern rivers of Canada, where the winter lasts much
longer than it does in the district I am describing; and among these was
a fine old French Canadian, Jacques Michaud by name, who had come south
with a party, tempted by the prospect of obtaining a pocketful of
dollars. He stood six feet two inches in his stockings; and his
strength was in proportion to his size. At the same time, he was one of
the most good-natured and kind-hearted men I ever met.
Among our party were several rough characters; and it happened that one
evening two of them fell out. They were about to draw their knives,
when Jacques seized each of them in his vice-like grasp, and, holding
them at arm's-length, gradually lifted them off the ground. There he
kept them; mildly expostulating,--now smiling at one, and now at the
other,--till they had consented to settle their dispute amicably; he
then set them on their legs again, and made them shake hands.
This man took a great fancy to Mike. "Ah, I do wish all your countrymen
were like you," he observed, smiling benignantly on him; "but they are
generally very different, especially when they get the grog on board:
then they often lose their lives,--and all their own fault, too.
"I had come down the Ottawa with several rafts, some two hundred miles
or more. My own raft was manned by Canadians,--steady boys, who stuck
to our laws, whatever they do to those of other people, and kept sober
till they brought their raft safe into dock. Another raft was manned
chiefly by Irishmen,--who, although I warned them, would indulge in
strong drink. We were nearing the Chaudiere Falls, and I had brought my
raft safe to shore, where it was taken to pieces, so that the logs might
be sent down the slide. I had gone on to a point where I could watch
this being done, when I heard loud cries; and on looking up the river I
saw that part of another raft, with four men on it, had got adrift, and,
to my horror, was hurrying towards the most dangerous part of the
rapids. I saw at once that in a few moments it must be dashed to
pieces, and, as I thought, the fate of the four unfortunates on it was
surely sealed.
"On it hurried, whirling round and round amid the foaming waters. The
next instant dashing against the rocks, it separated into as many
fragments as there were timbers, each of which was whirled down towards
the falls. Three of the poor wretches soon disappeared among the
tossing waves; but the fourth clung to the end of a piece of timber with
the grasp of despair--to that end which reached nearly to the edge of
the cataract. A fearful position! Still, the Irishman held on. I was
almost sure that the next moment would be his last; but just then the
current turned the log, so that the opposite end pointed to the fall.
On it went, with even greater rapidity than at first; then balancing for
an instant on the brink, the end to which he held was lifted up high in
the air, and he was sent from it as from a catapult, far out into the
calm water below the caldron! I never expected again to see him, but he
rose uninjured to the surface; and being a good swimmer, struck out
boldly till he was picked up by one of several canoes which put off
instantly to his assistance. Tim Nolan, I have a notion, was the first
man who ever came over those terrific falls and lived; and I would not
advise any of you young fellows to try the experiment, for, in my
opinion, he is the last who will ever do so and escape destruction."
Such was one of the many anecdotes I heard from the lips of old Jacques
and our other associates.
I was not sorry when, after some weeks, Uncle Mark told me that he had
made up his mind to return home. Mike had agreed to finish a job which
would occupy him a day or so longer; but as Uncle Mark was anxious to be
off, it was settled that he and I should start together, leaving the
rifle with Mike, as he would have to come on alone. We believed that no
animals were likely at that season to attack two people; besides, Uncle
Mark had purchased a pair of pistols from Jacques Michaud, which he
considered would be sufficient for our defence. Accordingly, pocketing
our dollars and slinging our wolf-skin knapsacks over our backs, we put
on our skates and commenced our journey.
We got on famously, for the air was calm, although the cold was intense.
We found our friend Kepenau, too, encamped where we had left him; and
stopping for a short time, we took our mid-day meal with him. As we had
made such good progress during the morning, we hoped to reach the hut
before midnight, for the moon was up, and we could not miss our way.
Uncle Mark was in good spirits, well satisfied with the result of our
expedition, and we laughed and chatted as we glided over the smooth ice.
"We must not forget our wolf-skin," I observed. "We shall get up to the
spot before daylight is over, and I would rather carry it on my back
than leave it behind."
"I shall not let you do that," answered my uncle. "It will weigh less
on my shoulders than on yours."
We were approaching a part of the river where, the ice having formed
before the snow fell, we should be compelled to take off our skates and
travel on foot. I had just remarked that I supposed the wolves had gone
off to some other district, where game was more abundant than with us,
when a howl reached our ears, coming down the stream, from the very
direction in which we were going. Another and another followed.
Presently we heard the full chorus of a whole pack, and soon we caught
sight of numerous dark spots on the white snow in the distance.
Uncle Mark watched them for an instant or two. "We must beat a retreat,
Roger, or the brutes will be upon us. We cannot hope to fight our way
through them. Off we go!" and turning round, we skated away for dear
life in the direction from whence we had come.
We hoped soon to distance the savage creatures; in which case, losing
sight and scent of us, they might turn off into the forest and leave the
road clear. As we went on, however, we heard their cries becoming more
and more distinct; and casting a glance over our shoulders, we saw, to
our horror, that they had already gained considerably on us; for with
their light bodies they ran very quickly over the hard-frozen snow.
Forward we dashed, faster than I had ever skated before; but nearer and
nearer grew those terrible sounds. When once, however, the wolves
reached the smooth ice, they were no longer able to run so fast as
before; still, they gradually gained on us, and we felt sure that ere
long they must be at our heels, as they were not now likely to give up
the chase.
"Never give up while life remains! Keep on, keep on, Roger!" cried
Uncle Mark. "My pistols will do for two of their leaders; our sticks
must knock over some of the others; and we must hope that the rest of
the pack will stop to devour their carcasses."
It might have been a quarter of an hour after this, although the time
appeared longer, when, looking round, I saw a dozen wolves at least
within twenty yards of us.
"We must try a dodge I have heard of," said Uncle Mark. "When they get
near us we must wheel rapidly round, and as they cannot turn on the ice
so fast as we can, we shall gain on them."
We waited until the wolves were almost up to us, then we followed the
proposed plan. The brutes, after rushing on a short distance, tried to
turn also. In doing so, those behind tumbled over their leaders, and we
skated on as before. We did this several times, until the cunning
wolves, perceiving our object, instead of turning kept straight forward.
Uncle Mark now drew one of his pistols, and as he skated round shot the
leading wolf. It rolled over dead. The next he treated in the same
manner. We then brought our sticks down on the heads of several others.
As we had expected, their followers instantly began tearing away at the
dead bodies, and this enabled us to get some distance ahead of them. I
was in hopes that they would be content with this feast, and allow us to
proceed unmolested; but before long our ears were again saluted with
their abominable howls, and we saw the survivors of the pack coming
along in full chase.
As we skated on Uncle Mark deliberately reloaded his pistols, observing,
"We shall have to play the same game over again, and I hope we shall
play it as well."
The wolves, however, seemed resolved not to let us escape. They nearly
overtook us; and though we turned, skating away now to the right and now
to the left bank of the river, they declined imitating our example.
"Our best chance is to keep straight on," said Uncle Mark. "Don't give
in, whatever you do. Our legs are as strong as theirs, and they will
begin to get tired at last."
I was not so sure of that till, looking back for a moment, I saw that
the pack was drawn out into a long line, showing that some, at all
events--probably the younger animals--were losing wind. If, however,
only one brute had succeeded in catching hold of our legs, it would have
been all up with us.
Fearfully depressing indeed were their howls; as they sounded close
behind us, they almost took the life out of me. Two of the largest of
the brutes were not five yards from us, and I was already beginning to
feel as if their sharp fangs were fixed in the calves of my legs, when I
saw several figures in the distance, and faint shouts were borne on the
breeze towards us.
"Courage, Roger! courage!" cried Uncle Mark. "Put forth all your
strength, and we shall be saved. Those are friends."
As we moved on we perceived Kepenau and a number of Indians rushing
towards us, flourishing sticks, and shouting at the top of their voices.
Kepenau himself, and three others, were armed with rifles.
"Turn on one side," he shouted, "and let us aim at the wolves."
We followed his advice; when four rifle-shots sent over as many of the
howling brutes. The rest, frightened by the shouts of the Indians as
much probably as by the death of their companions, turned off on one
side, and allowed us to escape. Instead, however, of going back, they
continued their course down the river. Probably they had been bound in
that direction when they first winded us.
We were saved; but so overcome were we by our long-continued violent
exertions, that, had not our Indian friends caught us in their arms, we
should have sunk exhausted on the ice. Taking off our skates, they
supported us between their arms to their camp. Here, seated on mats,
with our feet before the fire, we were kindly tended by the squaws, who
rubbed our ankles and legs, and bathed our feet in water. Some warm
broth--we did not examine too minutely the ingredients--quickly restored
us; and we were able to give an account of our adventure.
It was now too late to think of continuing our journey that night, so
the Indians pressed us to remain with them till the next morning;
promising to ascertain the direction taken by the pack of wolves, so
that we might not run the risk of again falling in with the hungry
brutes.
Kepenau would not allow us to use our own provisions,--observing that we
might want them the next day,--and he insisted on supplying us with
everything needful.
We slept soundly, but when I tried to get up next morning I felt little
able to continue the journey. I did not so much feel the effects of the
exercise as of the anxiety I had so long endured. Even Uncle Mark was
very stiff, and seemed inclined to enjoy a longer rest.
The Indians told us that during the night the wolves had come back;
probably to devour the carcasses of their slain companions. It was
thought probable that they had returned up the river. One of the men
went out to ascertain this, and on coming back told us that the first
surmise was correct--that the pack had indeed gone up the river, but
that it had afterwards gone down again, as was evident from the bloody
marks left by their feet.
Suddenly my uncle exclaimed: "By-the-by, Mike will be on his way home
some time to-day; and if so, it is more than possible that he may fall
in with the wolves! Though he has a gun, it will go hard with him
should they follow his trail."
My uncle accordingly expressed his fears to Kepenau.
"Then we must set out to meet your white friend," said the Indian; "for
should he be coming over the ice to-day, the wolves are certain to espy
him."
Mike had told me that he would visit our Indian friends on the way, and
spend the night with them, should he start too late to perform the whole
distance in one day. The recollection of this increased my apprehension
for his safety.
Kepenau said that he and four of the best-armed of his people would set
out early in the afternoon to look for our friend. Of course, we
insisted on accompanying them; and being pretty well rested, we started
at the hour proposed. We put on our skates, but the Indians kept pace
with us by running.
We went on and on, but no sign could we see of Mike. It was already
getting dusk when Kepenau stopped and examined the ice.
"A man has passed this way," he said, "and has turned off to the right."
Telling one of his people to follow up the trail, he proceeded onwards,
narrowly scrutinising the ice.
"It is as I thought," he observed; "he was coming along on foot when he
saw a pack of wolves following him, and instead of continuing on the ice
he made his way for the shore, to try and reach a tree into which he
could climb--the wisest thing he could do."
Having made this remark, he led the way in the direction the other
Indian had taken. He soon overtook him; but as darkness was increasing
we had to proceed slowly, so as not to lose the trail, which I was
utterly unable to perceive. The banks here were of a low, marshy
nature, so that there were few trees about up which the fugitive could
have escaped. I did not confidently expect to meet Mike on this
occasion, for he, I thought, would have come along on his skates,
whereas this person, the Indian said, was on foot.
We had not gone far when Kepenau stopped. "That is the howl of wolves,"
he observed; "but it is accompanied by a curious sound, and they are not
howling in their usual fashion."
Advancing further, I could clearly distinguish the howling of the
wolves, accompanied by another sound.
"Why, as I am alive, those are the tones of Mike Laffan's fiddle!"
exclaimed Uncle Mark. "He is safe, at all events--that is one comfort;
but it is a curious place to be playing in."
Kepenau now told us that the path we were following would lead us to the
ruins of an old fort, erected by the early French settlers, and that he
had little doubt our friend had found his way to it for refuge from the
wolves; but they had followed him, and were certainly not far off.
We hurried on, and as the sounds of the fiddle became more distinct, the
full moon rose from behind a dark mass which proved to be a ruined wall
of the building; and immediately afterwards, directly in front of us, we
discovered Mike Laffan seated on one of the time-worn and rickety beams
which had once formed part of the fort. There he was, bow in hand,
fiddling with might and main; while below him were a whole pack of
wolves, their mouths open, singing an inharmonious chorus to his music.
So entranced were they, that the brutes actually did not discover us;
nor, so far as we could see, were they making any attempt to reach Mike.
At a sign from Kepenau we stopped; but Mike, though he had perceived us,
went on fiddling. Presently he changed the tune to one of extraordinary
rapidity: this evidently astonished his vulpine audience, which began to
leap about. Suddenly he exclaimed, "Now! shout, friends, shout! and we
shall put the spalpeens of wolves to flight." As we raised our voices
he made his instrument produce the most fearful shrieks and cries, while
he uttered at the same time a true Irish howl.
Mike's plan had the desired effect. The wolves, bewildered by the
strange sounds, were seized with terror, and off they scampered like a
pack of curs, howling and biting at each other as they rushed along
towards the forest, in which they soon disappeared.
Mike on this jumped down from his perch, laughing heartily, and thanked
us all for having come to his assistance. Of course, our opportune
appearance had very much astonished him; but we soon explained matters,
and expressed our hope that he was none the worse for his adventure.
"Sorra a bit," he answered, "except that I am mighty cowld, sitting up
there among the snow for so long; but I'll soon be afther warming my
limbs."
Saying this he set off with us, and at a rapid rate we retraced our
steps to the Indian camp. We were all glad enough to turn in; and next
morning our friends, after examining the country around, assured us that
the wolves were not likely to follow our footsteps.
My uncle had taken a great liking to Kepenau, and invited him to come
and pitch his camp near us; promising to supply him with powder and
shot, and also to assist him in trading with the white men so that no
risk might be run of whisky being given in exchange for game and furs.
Kepenau said he would think about the matter.
One of the young squaws who happened to be present was his daughter. On
hearing of the invitation, she begged her father to accept it. She was
far superior to the other Indian women in appearance; and although not
so old as Lily, she was taller than any of them. Her complexion was of
the lightest olive, through which rich colour could be seen on her
cheeks. She was, indeed, fairer than many Europeans. Her figure was
extremely graceful, too. I did not, however, observe this when I first
saw her, for she was then dressed in her thick blanket robe. Her name
was Ashatea, or "White Poplar;" a very suitable name, as I thought. She
had seen Lily, I found, two or three times, before they had moved
westward; and she longed, she told me, to meet her again, and begged
that I would tell Lily so when I returned home. It was this that made
her so anxious that her father and his tribe should come and camp near
us.
Before we started, Kepenau had almost promised to come, though he would
not bind himself to do so. "Circumstances might change," he observed.
"He was well located where his camp was pitched, and it was trying work
to change quarters at that season of the year."
Ashatea accompanied us, with her people, down to the ice. "Do not
forget," she said, "my message to your sister Lily."
"You may trust me," I answered, making her a bow--for I felt that she
was a lady, although an Indian squaw; then off we set, hoping this time
to reach home before nightfall. Having completely recovered from our
fatigue, we got on famously. Mike did not forget to secure the
wolf-skin; and just as the sun sank behind the trees, we were saluted by
the sharp, joyous barking of Snap, Yelp, and Pop, and by the gruffer
tones of Quambo, who rushed out of the hut to welcome us home.
We had plenty of work to do after we returned home, but I managed to
make a run over to the settlement to pay a visit to my uncle and aunt
and Lily. I did not fail to give her Ashatea's message; and she was
much pleased to hear of her.
"I do hope they will come into our neighbourhood; I should be so glad to
see her again," said Lily. "Ashatea promised to take me out in her
canoe; for, you know, she is as expert as any of the men in paddling
one. She wished to show me how the Indians catch fish. And then she
said that when the rice was ripe we should go to the rice-lake to
collect it. I hope that Aunt Hannah won't object. It would be very
interesting; and there could be no possible danger, as all the Indians
in this part of the country are friendly. But, to tell you the truth,
Roger, I am quite jealous of you, as you are now able to go out into the
forest by yourself, and meet with all sorts of adventures; whilst I,
alas! am compelled to stay at home, with no other amusement than
occasionally a `sewing' or an `apple bee.'"
I, of course, sympathised with Lily, and said that I wished Aunt Hannah
would let her come out with me, and that I should take very great care
of her.
"I am afraid that she thinks we are now too old to run about together as
we used to do, when you were a boy and I was a girl," she answered.
"I wish, then, that we were young again!" I exclaimed; "although I
should not then be able to take as much care of you as I can now. I
would sooner die, Lily, than allow any harm to happen to you."
"That I am sure you would, Roger," she said; "and I should not be afraid
to trust myself with you anywhere."
We were not very old even then, I should remark: but I was feeling
myself a man, and was ready to do all sorts of manly things.
"By-the-by," observed Lily, "we have become intimate with a family among
the settlers who arrived last fall,--Mr and Mrs Claxton, and Dora
their daughter, a very nice girl of my age, and a great friend of mine.
Dora has a brother called Reuben, and I think you will like him.
Although he is younger than you are, he seems to be a fine fellow, and
has your taste for natural history and sporting."
"I shall be very glad to meet with him; but I have not time to look him
up now, as I must get back to the hut. But you may tell him about me;
and say that, if he will come over, I shall be happy to take him out
into the forest, where we can have a hunt together."
Although I had said that I must go immediately, I lingered for some time
with Lily, for I never was in a hurry to leave her. It was consequently
quite dark before I got half-way to the hut; still, I knew the path--
indeed, there was only one. The snow, however, thickly covered the
ground, and I had to guide myself by feeling the scores on the trunks of
the trees. Had every tree been thus marked, there would have been no
great difficulty; but, of course, they were scored only at intervals,
and sometimes I was uncertain whether I had not somehow got out of the
direct line. I knew that, did I once go wrong, it would be a hard
matter, if not impossible, to find my way back again. There might be
wolves prowling about, too; or I might by chance find myself in the
grasp of a hungry bear, bent on a visit to the hog-pens in the
settlement. Intending to return early, I had left without my gun--an
act of folly I resolved not to repeat. Should I lose myself, I should
have no means of making a signal, and I might very possibly be frozen to
death before the morning.
I had gone some distance without finding a score, and I began to fear
that I really had lost myself; but it would not do to stand still, so I
walked on; and greatly to my relief, as I touched tree after tree, I at
length felt a scored one, and knew that I was in the right direction.
Presently a light appeared ahead. I ran towards it, shouting at the top
of my voice. A welcome halloo came from Mike, who was standing, with a
pine torch in his hand, at the door of the hut.
Two days after this, a tall lad, of fair complexion, made his appearance
at the hut, gun in hand, and introduced himself as Reuben Claxton.
"Miss Lily, who is a great friend of my sister Dora, told me that you
would be glad to see me; and so I have come, and I should much like to
have a hunt with you in the forest," he said abruptly.
It was his way, I found. He always went directly to the point, whether
in talking or in doing anything: and I liked him the better for that.
Uncle Mark invited him to stay with us.
"I said that I would if you asked me, so they will not be expecting me
at home again," he answered.
In ten minutes we were on as friendly terms as if we had known each
other all our lives. Next day we started with our guns, accompanied by
Mike and Quambo, and our three dogs. The sky was bright, the air calm,
and, except for the snow and the leafless trees, we might have supposed
ourselves to have been in the middle of summer.
We had not gone far when we caught sight of an animal making its way
along the trunk of a fallen tree. I soon recognised it to be a marten,
and was just going to fire, when I perceived another creature coming out
of a hole hard by. The former animal was evidently bent on attacking
the latter. The marten immediately stopped, and carefully eyed the
hermit, the character of which I could not at first make out on account
of the distance it was from us. Quambo would probably have known, but
he and Mike were some way behind us. Of the marten I had no doubt; I
recognised it by its agile and graceful movements, by its length, which
was about a foot and a half, with a bushy tail somewhat under a foot
long, and by its dark tawny coat and white throat, its pointed muzzle,
and bright and lively eyes. We stopped to watch what would take place,
keeping back the dogs, which were about to rush forward and seize the
animals.
The marten soon made up its mind to assault its opponent, which, instead
of retreating into its hole, came boldly forward and ascended the fallen
trunk. I at once saw that it was an "urson," or porcupine; although my
companion supposed it to be another animal, as he could not see the long
quills with which the English porcupine is armed. This creature was
fully two feet long. Its back was covered with thick hair of a dusky
brown colour; its head was short, and its nose blunt; it had small round
ears, very powerful teeth, short limbs, and feet armed with strong
crooked claws. These particulars I was afterwards able to exhibit to
him.
The porcupine stood eyeing its opponent for nearly a minute; then the
marten began the attack by showing its teeth, erecting its hairs, and
springing forward with graceful bounds. At the same time the porcupine,
erecting an armour of quills, which had till then been concealed under
its thick hair, appeared all at once to become twice its former size.
The marten had too much impetus to stop its attempt to seize the
porcupine by the snout; but the latter, suddenly whisking round, dealt
the marten a tremendous blow with its tail, filling its body with short
darts, and sending it off the trunk sprawling among the snow.
The marten was now animated by rage as well as by the desire to capture
its foe. It again sprang up, ran along the boughs of the fallen tree,
and advanced once more towards the porcupine; but its courage and
agility did not avail it. Another blow from that formidable tail cast
it once more into the snow; while the porcupine looked down with
contempt on its defeated antagonist. Reuben, taking good aim with his
rifle, put the marten out of misery; while I killed the victorious
porcupine. The dogs then rushed forward; but Snap, the most eager, had
reason to repent his eagerness, as before we could keep him off the
animal he had received several sharp quills in his jaws. These we
immediately extracted, but he never again attempted to seize either a
living or a dead porcupine.
We killed another marten and some squirrels, and were returning home
just at sundown, when we met Uncle Mark, who had followed our trail--no
difficult thing to do over the snow, even for a white man. He had just
before caught sight of an opossum, which had escaped him. It had
evidently paid a visit to our poultry-yard a short time previously, and
having succeeded in carrying off one of the inhabitants, was making its
way with its prey to its mate or hungry family when Uncle Mark overtook
it. He had knocked it over with his stick, and supposed it dying or
dead, as it lay with open mouth, extended tongue, and dim eyes. At that
moment he had caught sight of a marten or some other animal moving
through the forest. The creature thereupon proved that it was only
"'possuming;" for the instant his eye was withdrawn it sprang up, and
set off at a rate which showed that its powers of locomotion, at least,
had not been impaired by the blows it had received.
He was telling us this, when the dogs began to yelp, and presently right
ahead of us appeared a creature of the size of a large cat.
"Dere a 'possum," exclaimed Quambo; and we hurried after it with the
dogs.
"Master 'Possum" was not going to be caught so easily, however. In an
instant it was up a tree, and lost to sight amid the branches, while the
dogs yelped around it.
"The creature is lost," cried Reuben.
"No fear ob dat," answered Quambo. "We soon find him out."
Then he and Mike, with the rest of us, began to collect all the decayed
branches to be found above the snow. We soon bad enough wood for a
fire; when Quambo striking a light, it quickly blazed up, and the flames
exhibited the opossum making its way along one of the branches. The
dogs leaped about, and yelped loudly. Quambo had thrown himself on the
ground to watch the animal's proceedings; for the moment we had
attempted to take aim, it had nimbly sprung round to the dark side,
apparently watching us as eagerly as we were watching it. Mike on this
hurried off to a little distance and lifted his rifle. He fired, and
down came the opossum.
The dogs seized it, and in a few moments life was extinct. There was no
shamming now, though the Irishman gave it another blow, after we had
taken off the dogs, just to make sure. He having slung it over his
back, we put out the fire to prevent the risk of igniting the trees, and
proceeded homewards well content with our evening's sport.
It was the last idle day we had for some time, for we had an abundance
of work to get through before the return of spring, which was now
rapidly approaching. It was the least pleasant time of the year, too;
for we had thaws of two or three days at a time, during which the
hardened snow was turned into slush. Then frost would come on again,
and hold the timber with such a grasp that we could not move it. We
occupied the time in putting up sheds, and in such other work as could
be done before the ground was clear. No one, however, complained; for
we knew that the snow would soon disappear, that the leaves would again
come forth, and that the rivers would be open, when we should be able to
move about much more rapidly in our canoes than we had done over the
frozen ground.