It was a fine sight to see the boats depart for the north. It was a
thrilling, heart-stirring sight to behold these picturesque, athletic
men, on receiving the word of command from their guides, spring lightly
into the long, heavy boats; to see them let the oars fall into the water
with a loud splash, and then, taking their seats, give way with a will,
knowing that the eyes of friends and sweethearts and rivals were bent
earnestly upon them. It was a splendid sight to see boat after boat
shoot out from the landing-place, and cut through the calm bosom of the
river, as the men bent their sturdy backs, until the thick oars creaked
and groaned on the gunwales and flashed in the stream, more and more
vigorously at each successive stroke, until their friends on the bank,
who were anxious to see the last of them, had to run faster and faster
in order to keep up with them, as the rowers warmed at their work, and
made the water gurgle at the bows--their bright blue and scarlet and
white trappings reflected in the dark waters in broken masses of colour,
streaked with long lines of shining ripples, as if they floated on a
lake of liquid rainbows. And it was a glorious thing to hear the wild,
plaintive song, led by one clear, sonorous voice, that rang out full and
strong in the still air, while at the close of every two lines the whole
brigade burst into a loud, enthusiastic chorus, that rolled far and wide
over the smooth waters--telling of their approach to settlers beyond the
reach of vision in advance, and floating faintly back, a last farewell,
to the listening ears of fathers, mothers, wives, and sisters left
behind. And it was interesting to observe how, as the rushing boats
sped onwards past the cottages on shore, groups of men and women and
children stood before the open doors and waved adieu, while ever and
anon a solitary voice rang louder than the others in the chorus, and a
pair of dark eyes grew brighter as a voyageur swept past his home, and
recognised his little ones screaming farewell, and seeking to attract
their _sire's_ attention by tossing their chubby arms or flourishing
round their heads the bright vermilion blades of canoe paddles. It was
interesting, too, to hear the men shout as they ran a small rapid which
occurs about the lower part of the settlement, and dashed in full career
up to the Lower Fort--which stands about twenty miles down the river
from Fort Garry--and then sped onward again with unabated energy, until
they passed the Indian settlement, with its scattered wooden buildings
and its small church; passed the last cottage on the bank; passed the
low swampy land at the river's mouth; and emerged at last, as evening
closed, upon the wide, calm, sea-like bosom of Lake Winnipeg.
Charley saw and heard all this during the whole of that long, exciting
afternoon, and as he heard and saw it his heart swelled as if it would
burst its prison-bars, his voice rang out wildly in the choruses,
regardless alike of tune and time, and his spirit boiled within him as
he quaffed the first sweet draught of a rover's life--a life in the
woods, the wild, free, enchanting woods, where all appeared in _his_
eyes bright, and sunny, and green, and beautiful!
As the sun's last rays sank in the west, and the clouds, losing their
crimson hue, began gradually to fade into grey, the boats' heads were
turned landward. In a few seconds they grounded on a low point covered
with small trees and bushes which stretched out into the lake. Here
Louis Peltier had resolved to bivouac for the night. "Now then, mes
garcons," he exclaimed, leaping ashore, and helping to drag the boat a
little way on to the beach, "vite, vite! a terre, a terre!--Take the
kettle, Pierre, and let's have supper."
Pierre needed no second bidding. He grasped a large tin kettle and an
axe, with which he hurried into a clump of trees. Laying down the
kettle, which he had previously filled with water from the lake, he
singled out a dead tree, and with three powerful blows of his axe
brought it to the ground. A few additional strokes cut it up into logs,
varying from three to five feet in length, which he piled together,
first placing a small bundle of dry grass and twigs beneath them, and a
few splinters of wood which he cut from off one of the logs. Having
accomplished this, Pierre took a flint and steel out of a gaily
ornamented pouch which depended from his waist, and which went by the
name of a fire-bag in consequence of its containing the implements for
procuring that element. It might have been as appropriately named
tobacco-bag or smoking-bag, however, seeing that such things had more to
do with it, if possible, than fire. Having struck a spark, which he
took captive by means of a piece of tinder, he placed it in the centre
of a very dry handful of soft grass, and whirled it rapidly round his
head, thereby producing a current of air, which blew the spark into a
flame; which, when applied, lighted the grass and twigs; and so, in a
few minutes, a blazing fire roared up among the trees--spouted volumes
of sparks into the air, like a gigantic squib, which made it quite a
marvel that all the bushes in the neighbourhood were not burnt up at
once--glared out red and fierce upon the rippling water, until it
became, as it were, red hot in the neighbourhood of the boats, and
caused the night to become suddenly darker by contrast; the night
reciprocating the compliment, as it grew later, by causing the space
around the fire to glow brighter and brighter, until it became a
brilliant chamber, surrounded by walls of the blackest ebony.
While Pierre was thus engaged there were at least ten voyageurs
similarly occupied. Ten steels were made instrumental in creating ten
sparks, which were severally captured by ten pieces of tinder, and
whirled round by ten lusty arms, until ten flames were produced, and ten
fires sprang up and flared wildly on the busy scene that had a few hours
before been so calm, so solitary, and so peaceful, bathed in the soft
beams of the setting sun.
In less than half an hour the several camps were completed, the kettles
boiling over the fires, the men smoking in every variety of attitude,
and talking loudly. It was a cheerful scene; and so Charley thought as
he reclined in his canvas tent, the opening of which faced the fire, and
enabled him to see all that was going on.
Pierre was standing over the great kettle, dancing round it, and making
sudden plunges with a stick into it, in the desperate effort to stir its
boiling contents--desperate, because the fire was very fierce and large,
and the flames seemed to take a fiendish pleasure in leaping up suddenly
just under Pierre's nose, thereby endangering his beard, or shooting out
between his legs and licking round them at most unexpected moments, when
the light wind ought to have been blowing them quite in the opposite
direction; and then, as he danced round to the other side to avoid them,
wheeling about and roaring viciously in his face, until it seemed as if
the poor man would be roasted long before the supper was boiled.
Indeed, what between the ever-changing and violent flames, the rolling
smoke, the steam from the kettle, the showering sparks, and the man's
own wild grimaces and violent antics, Pierre seemed to Charley like a
raging demon, who danced not only round, but above, and on, and through,
and _in_ the flames, as if they were his natural element, in which he
took special delight.
Quite close to the tent the massive form of Louis the guide lay
extended, his back supported by the stump of a tree, his eyes blinking
sleepily at the blaze, and his beloved pipe hanging from his lips, while
wreaths of smoke encircled his head. Louis's day's work was done. Few
could do a better; and when his work was over, Louis always acted on the
belief that his position and his years entitled him to rest, and took
things very easy in consequence.
Six of the boat's crew sat in a semicircle beside the guide and fronting
the fire, each paying particular attention to his pipe, and talking
between the puffs to any one who chose to listen.
Suddenly Pierre vanished into the smoke and flames altogether, whence in
another moment he issued, bearing in his hand the large tin kettle,
which he deposited triumphantly at the feet of his comrades.
"Now, then," cried Pierre.
It was unnecessary to have said even that much by way of invitation.
Voyageurs do not require to have their food pressed upon them after a
hard day's work. Indeed, it was as much as they could do to refrain
from laying violent hands on the kettle long before their worthy cook
considered its contents sufficiently done.
Charley sat in company with Mr Park--a chief factor, on his way to
Norway House. Gibault, one of the men who acted as their servant, had
placed a kettle of hot tea before them, which, with several slices of
buffalo tongue, a lump of pemmican, and some hard biscuit and butter,
formed their evening meal. Indeed, we may add that these viands, during
a great part of the voyage, constituted their every meal. In fact, they
had no variety in their fare, except a wild duck or two now and then,
and a goose when they chanced to shoot one.
Charley sipped a pannikin of tea as he reclined on his blanket, and
being somewhat fatigued in consequence of his exertions and excitement
during the day, said nothing. Mr Park for the same reasons, besides
being naturally taciturn, was equally mute; so they both enjoyed in
silence the spectacle of the men eating their supper. And it _was_ a
sight worth seeing.
Their food consisted of robbiboo, a compound of flour, pemmican, and
water, boiled to the consistency of very thick soup. Though not a
species of food that would satisfy the fastidious taste of an epicure,
robbiboo is, nevertheless, very wholesome, exceedingly nutritious, and
withal palatable. Pemmican, its principal component, is made of buffalo
flesh, which fully equals (some think greatly excels) beef. The recipe
for making it is as follows:--First kill your buffalo--a matter of
considerable difficulty, by the way, as doing so requires you to travel
to the buffalo-grounds, to arm yourself with a gun, and mount a horse,
on which you have to gallop, perhaps, several miles over rough ground
and among badger-holes, at the imminent risk of breaking your neck.
Then you have to run up alongside of a buffalo and put a ball through
his heart, which, apart from the murderous nature of the action, is a
difficult thing to do. But we will suppose that you have killed your
buffalo. Then you must skin him; then cut him up, and slice the flesh
into layers, which must be dried in the sun. At this stage of the
process you have produced a substance which in the fur countries goes by
the name of dried meat, and is largely used as an article of food. As
its name implies, it is very dry, and it is also very tough, and very
undesirable if one can manage to procure anything better. But to
proceed. Having thus prepared dried meat, lay a quantity of it on a
flat stone, and take another stone, with which pound it into shreds.
You must then take the animal's hide, while it is yet new, and make bags
of it about two feet and a half long by a foot and a half broad. Into
this put the pounded meat loosely. Melt the fat of your buffalo over a
fire, and when quite liquid pour it into the bag until full; mix the
contents well together; sew the whole up before it cools, and you have a
bag of pemmican of about ninety pounds weight. This forms the chief
food of the voyageur, in consequence of its being the largest possible
quantity of sustenance compressed into the smallest possible space, and
in an extremely convenient, portable shape. It will keep fresh for
years, and has been much used, in consequence, by the heroes of arctic
discovery, in their perilous journeys along the shores of the frozen
sea.
The voyageurs used no plates. Men who travel in these countries become
independent of many things that are supposed to be necessary here. They
sat in a circle round the kettle, each man armed with a large wooden or
pewter spoon, with which he ladled the robbiboo down his capacious
throat, in a style that not only caused Charley to laugh, but afterwards
threw him into a deep reverie on the powers of appetite in general, and
the strength of voyageur stomachs in particular.
At first the keen edge of appetite induced the men to eat in silence;
but as the contents of the kettle began to get low, their tongues
loosened, and at last, when the kettles were emptied and the pipes
filled, fresh logs thrown on the fires, and their limbs stretched out
around them, the babel of English, French, and Indian that arose was
quite overwhelming. The middle-aged men told long stories of what they
_had_ done; the young men boasted of what they _meant_ to do; while the
more aged smiled, nodded, smoked their pipes, put in a word or two as
occasion offered, and listened. While they conversed the quick ears of
one of the men of Charley's camp detected some unusual sound.
"Hist!" said he, turning his head aside slightly, in a listening
attitude, while his comrades suddenly ceased their noisy laugh.
"Do ducks travel in canoes hereabouts?" said the man, after a moment's
silence; "for, if not, there's some one about to pay us a visit. I
would wager my best gun that I hear the stroke of paddles."
"If your ears had been sharper, Francois, you might have heard them some
time ago," said the guide, shaking the ashes out of his pipe and
refilling it for the third time.
"Ah, Louis, I do not pretend to such sharp ears as you possess, nor to
such sharp wit either. But who do you think can be _en route_ so late?"
"That my wit does not enable me to divine," said Louis; "but if you have
any faith in the sharpness of your eyes, I would recommend you to go to
the beach and see, as the best and shortest way of finding out."
By this time the men had risen, and were peering out into the gloom in
the direction whence the sound came, while one or two sauntered down to
the margin of the lake to meet the newcomers.
"Who can it be, I wonder?" said Charley, who had left the tent, and was
now standing beside the guide.
"Difficult to say, monsieur. Perhaps Injins, though I thought there
were none here just now. But I'm not surprised that we've attracted
_something_ to us. Livin' creeturs always come nat'rally to the light,
and there's plenty fire on the point to-night."
"Rather more than enough," replied Charley, abruptly, as a slight motion
of wind sent the flames curling round his head and singed off his
eyelashes. "Why, Louis, it's my firm belief that if I ever get to the
end of this journey, I'll not have a hair left on my head."
Louis smiled.
"O monsieur, you will learn to _observe_ things before you have been
long in the wilderness. If you _will_ edge round to leeward of the
fire, you can't expect it to respect you."
Just at this moment a loud hurrah rang through the copse, and Harry
Somerville sprang over the fire into the arms of Charley, who received
him with a hug and a look of unutterable amazement.
"Charley, my boy!"
"Harry Somerville, I declare!"
For at least five minutes Charley could not recover his composure
sufficiently to _declare_ anything else, but stood with open mouth and
eyes, and elevated eyebrows, looking at his young friend, who capered
and danced round the fire in a manner that threw the cook's performances
in that line quite into the shade, while he continued all the time to
shout fragments of sentences that were quite unintelligible to any one.
It was evident that Harry was in a state of immense delight at something
unknown save to himself, but which, in the course of a few minutes, was
revealed to his wondering friends.
"Charley, I'm _going_! hurrah!" and he leaped about in a manner that
induced Charley to say he would not only be going, but very soon _gone_,
if he did not keep further away from the fire.
"Yes, Charley, I'm going with you! I upset the stool, tilted the
ink-bottle over the invoice-book, sent the poker almost through the back
of the fireplace, and smashed Tom Whyte's best whip on the back of the
`noo 'oss,' as I galloped him over the plains for the last time--all for
joy, because I'm going with you, Charley, my darling!"
Here Harry suddenly threw his arms round his friend's neck, meditating
an embrace. As both boys were rather fond of using their muscles
violently, the embrace degenerated into a wrestle, which caused them to
threaten complete destruction to the fire as they staggered in front of
it, and ended in their tumbling against the tent, and nearly breaking
its poles and fastenings, to the horror and indignation of Mr Park, who
was smoking his pipe within, quietly waiting till Harry's superabundant
glee was over, that he might get an explanation of his unexpected
arrival among them.
"Ah, they will be good voyageurs!" cried one of the men, as he looked on
at this scene.
"Oui, oui! good boys, active lads," replied the others, laughing. The
two boys rose hastily.
"Yes," cried Harry, breathless, but still excited, "I'm going all the
way, and a great deal farther. I'm going to hunt buffaloes in the
Saskatchewan, and grizzly bears in the--the--in fact everywhere! I'm
going down the Mackenzie River--I'm going _mad_, I believe;" and Harry
gave another caper and another shout, and tossed his cap high into the
air. Having been recklessly tossed, it came down into the fire. When
it went in, it was dark blue; but when Harry dashed into the flames in
consternation to save it, it came out of a rich brown colour.
"Now, youngster," said Mr Park, "when you've done capering I should
like to ask you one or two questions. What brought you here?"
"A canoe," said Harry, inclined to be impudent.
"Oh! and pray for what _purpose_ have you come here?"
"These are my credentials," handing him a letter.
Mr Park opened the note and read.
"Ah! oh! Saskatchewan--hum--yes--outpost--wild boy--just so--keep him
at it--ay, fit for nothing else. So," said Mr Park, folding the paper,
"I find that Mr Grant has sent you to take the place of a young
gentleman we expected to pick up at Norway House, but who is required
elsewhere; and that he wishes you to see a good deal of rough life--to
be made a trader of, in fact. Is that your desire?"
"That's the very ticket!" replied Harry, scarcely able to restrain his
delight at the prospect.
"Well, then, you had better get supper and turn in, for you'll have to
begin your new life by rising at three o'clock to-morrow morning. Have
you got a tent?"
"Yes," said Harry, pointing to his canoe, which had been brought to the
fire and turned bottom up by the two Indians to whom it belonged, and
who were reclining under its shelter enjoying their pipes, and watching
with looks of great gravity the doings of Harry and his friend.
"_That_ will return whence it came to-morrow. Have you no other?"
"Oh yes," said Harry, pointing to the overhanging branches of a willow
close at hand, "lots more."
Mr Park smiled grimly, and turning on his heel re-entered the tent and
continued his pipe, while Harry flung himself down beside Charley under
the bark canoe.
This species of "tent" is, however, by no means a perfect one. An
Indian canoe is seldom three feet broad--frequently much narrower--so
that it only affords shelter for the body as far down as the waist,
leaving the extremities exposed. True, one _may_ double up as nearly as
possible into half one's length, but this is not a desirable position to
maintain throughout an entire night. Sometimes, when the weather is
_very_ bad, an additional protection is procured by leaning several
poles against the bottom of the canoe, on the weather side, in such a
way as to slope considerably over the front; and over these are spread
pieces of birch bark or branches and moss, so as to form a screen, which
is an admirable shelter. But this involves too much time and labour to
be adopted during a voyage, and is only done when the travellers are
under the necessity of remaining for some time in one place.
The canoe in which Harry arrived was a pretty large one, and looked so
comfortable when arranged for the night that Charley resolved to abandon
his own tent and Mr Park's society, and sleep with his friend.
"I'll sleep with you, Harry, my boy," said he, after Harry had explained
to him in detail the cause of his being sent away from Red River; which
was no other than that a young gentleman, as Mr Park said, who _was_ to
have gone, had been ordered elsewhere.
"That's right, Charley; spread out our blankets, while I get some
supper, like a good fellow." Harry went in search of the kettle while
his friend prepared their bed. First, he examined the ground on which
the canoe lay, and found that the two Indians had already taken
possession of the only level places under it. "Humph!" he ejaculated,
half inclined to rouse them up, but immediately dismissed the idea as
unworthy of a voyageur. Besides, Charley was an amiable, unselfish
fellow, and would rather have lain on the top of a dozen stumps than
have made himself comfortable at the expense of any one else.
He paused a moment to consider. On one side was a hollow "that" (as he
soliloquised to himself) "would break the back of a buffalo." On the
other side were a dozen little stumps surrounding three very prominent
ones, that threatened destruction to the ribs of any one who should
venture to lie there. But Charley did not pause to consider long.
Seizing his axe, he laid about him vigorously with the head of it, and
in a few seconds destroyed all the stumps, which he carefully collected,
and, along with some loose moss and twigs, put into the hollow, and so
filled it up. Having improved things thus far, he rose and strode out
of the circle of light into the wood. In a few minutes he reappeared,
bearing a young spruce fir tree on his shoulder, which with the axe he
stripped of its branches. These branches were flat in form, and
elastic--admirably adapted for making a bed on; and when Charley spread
them out under the canoe in a pile of about four inches in depth by four
feet broad and six feet long, the stumps and the hollow were overwhelmed
altogether. He then ran to Mr Park's tent, and fetched thence a small
flat bundle covered with oilcloth and tied with a rope. Opening this,
he tossed out its contents, which were two large and very thick
blankets--one green, the other white; a particularly minute feather
pillow, a pair of moccasins, a broken comb, and a bit of soap. Then he
opened a similar bundle containing Harry's bed, which he likewise tossed
out; and then kneeling down, he spread the two white blankets on the top
of the branches, the two green blankets above these, and the two pillows
at the top, as far under the shelter of the canoe as he could push them.
Having completed the whole in a manner that would have done credit to a
chambermaid, he continued to sit on his knees, with his hands in his
pockets, smiling complacently, and saying, "Capital--first-rate!"
"Here we are, Charley. Have a second supper--do!"
Harry placed the smoking kettle by the head of the bed, and squatting
down beside it, began to eat as only a boy _can_ eat who has had nothing
since breakfast.
Charley attacked the kettle too--as he said, "out of sympathy," although
he "wasn't hungry a bit." And really, for a man who was not hungry, and
had supped half an hour before, the appetite of _sympathy_ was
wonderfully strong.
But Harry's powers of endurance were now exhausted. He had spent a long
day of excessive fatigue and excitement, and having wound it up with a
heavy supper, sleep began to assail him with a fell ferocity that
nothing could resist. He yawned once or twice, and sat on the bed
blinking unmeaningly at the fire, as if he had something to say to it
which he could not recollect just then. He nodded violently, much to
his own surprise, once or twice, and began to address remarks to the
kettle instead of to his friend. "I say, Charley, this won't do. I'm
off to bed!" and suiting the action to the word, he took off his coat
and placed it on his pillow. He then removed his moccasins, which were
wet, and put on a dry pair; and this being all that is ever done in the
way of preparation before going to bed in the woods, he lay down and
pulled the green blankets over him.
Before doing so, however, Harry leaned his head on his hands and prayed.
This was the one link left of the chain of habit with which he had left
home. Until the period of his departure for the wild scenes of the
North-west, Harry had lived in a quiet, happy home in the West Highlands
of Scotland, where he had been surrounded by the benign influences of a
family the members of which were united by the sweet bonds of Christian
love--bonds which were strengthened by the additional tie of amiability
of disposition. From childhood he had been accustomed to the routine of
a pious and well-regulated household, where the Bible was perused and
spoken of with an interest that indicated a genuine hungering and
thirsting after righteousness, and where the name of JESUS sounded often
and sweetly on the ear. Under such training Harry, though naturally of
a wild, volatile disposition, was deeply and irresistibly impressed with
a reverence for sacred things, which, now that he was thousands of miles
away from his peaceful home, clung to him with the force of old habit
and association, despite the jeers of comrades and the evil influences
and ungodliness by which he was surrounded. It is true that he was not
altogether unhurt by the withering indifference to God that he beheld on
all sides. Deep impression is not renewal of heart. But early training
in the path of Christian love saved him many a deadly fall. It guarded
him from many of the grosser sins into which other boys, who had merely
broken away from the _restraints_ of home, too easily fell. It twined
round him--as the ivy encircles the oak--with a soft, tender, but
powerful grasp, that held him back when he was tempted to dash aside all
restraint; and held him up when, in the weakness of his human nature, he
was about to fall. It exerted its benign sway over him in the silence
of night, when his thoughts reverted to home, and during his waking
hours, when he wandered from scene to scene in the wide wilderness; and
in after years, when sin prevailed, and intercourse with rough men had
worn off much of at least the superficial amiability of his character,
and to some extent blunted the finer feelings of his nature, it clung
faintly to him still, in the memory of his mother's gentle look and
tender voice, and never forsook him altogether. Home had a blessed and
powerful influence on Harry. May God bless such homes, where the ruling
power is _love_! God bless and multiply such homes in the earth! Were
there more of them there would be fewer heart-broken mothers to weep
over the memory of the blooming, manly boys they sent away to foreign
climes--with trembling hearts but high hopes--and never saw them more.
They were vessels launched upon the troubled sea of time, with stout
timbers, firm masts, and gallant sails--with all that was necessary
above and below, from stem to stern, for battling with the billows of
adverse fortune, for stemming the tide of opposition, for riding the
storms of persecution, or bounding with a press of canvas before the
gales of prosperity; but without the rudder--without the guiding
principle that renders the great power of plank and sail and mast
available; _with_ which the vessel moves obedient to the owner's will,
_without_ which it drifts about with every current, and sails along with
every shifting wind that blows. Yes, may the best blessings of
prosperity and peace rest on such families, whose bread, cast
continually on the waters, returns to them after many days.
After Harry had lain down, Charley, who did not feel inclined for
repose, sauntered to the margin of the lake, and sat down upon a rock.
It was a beautiful calm evening. The moon shone faintly through a mass
of heavy clouds, casting a pale light on the waters of Lake Winnipeg,
which stretched, without a ripple, out to the distant horizon. The
great fresh-water lakes of America bear a strong resemblance to the sea.
In storms the waves rise mountains high, and break with heavy, sullen
roar upon a beach composed in many places of sand and pebbles; while
they are so large that one not only looks out to a straight horizon, but
may even sail _out of sight of land_ altogether.
As Charley sat resting his head on his hand, and listening to the soft
hiss that the ripples made upon the beach, he felt all the solemnising
influence that steals irresistibly over the mind as we sit on a still
night gazing out upon the moonlit sea. His thoughts were sad; for he
thought of Kate, and his mother and father, and the home he was now
leaving. He remembered all that he had ever done to injure or annoy the
dear ones he was leaving; and it is strange how much alive our
consciences become when we are unexpectedly or suddenly removed from
those with whom we have lived and held daily intercourse. How bitterly
we reproach ourselves for harsh words, unkind actions; and how intensely
we long for one word more with them, one fervent embrace, to prove at
once that all we have ever said or done was not _meant_ ill, and, at any
rate, is deeply, sincerely repented of now! As Charley looked up into
the starry sky, his mind recurred to the parting words of Mr Addison.
With uplifted hands and a full heart, he prayed that God would bless,
for Jesus' sake, the beloved ones in Red River, but especially Kate; for
whether he prayed or meditated, Charley's thoughts _always_ ended with
Kate.
A black cloud passed across the moon, and reminded him that but a few
hours of the night remained; so hastening up to the camp again, he lay
gently down beside his friend, and drew the green blanket over him.
In the camp all was silent. The men had chosen their several beds
according to fancy, under the shadow of a bush or tree. The fires had
burned low--so low that it was with difficulty Charley, as he lay, could
discern the recumbent forms of the men, whose presence was indicated by
the deep, soft, regular breathing of tired but healthy constitutions.
Sometimes a stray moonbeam shot through the leaves and branches, and
cast a ghostlike flickering light over the scene, which ever and anon
was rendered more mysterious by a red flare of the fire as an ember
fell, blazed up for an instant, and left all shrouded in greater
darkness than before.
At first Charley continued his sad thoughts, staring all the while at
the red embers of the expiring fire; but soon his eyes began to blink,
and the stumps of trees began to assume the form of voyageurs, and
voyageurs to look like stumps of trees. Then a moonbeam darted in, and
Mr Addison stood on the other side of the fire. At this sight Charley
started, and Mr Addison disappeared, while the boy smiled to think how
he had been dreaming while only half asleep. Then Kate appeared, and
seemed to smile on him; but another ember fell, and another red flame
sprang up, and put her to flight too. Then a low sigh of wind rustled
through the branches, and Charley felt sure that he saw Kate again
coming through the woods, singing the low, soft tune that she was so
fond of singing, because it was his own favourite air. But soon the air
ceased; the fire faded away; so did the trees, and the sleeping
voyageurs; Kate last of all dissolved, and Charley sank into a deep,
untroubled slumber.