"Spring had passed away, and York Fort was filled with all the bustle
and activity of summer. Brigades came pouring in upon us with furs from
the interior, and as every boat brought a CT or a clerk, our mess-table
began to overflow.
"You've not seen the summer mess-room filled yet, Hamilton. That's a
treat in store for you."
"It was pretty full last autumn, I think," suggested Hamilton, "at the
time I arrived from England."
"Full! why, man, it was getting to feel quite lonely at that time. I've
seen more than fifty sit down to table there, and it was worth going
fifty miles to hear the row they kicked up--telling stories without end
(and sometimes without foundation) about their wild doings in the
interior, where every man-jack of them having spent at least eight
months almost in perfect solitude, they hadn't had a chance of letting
their tongues go till they came down here. But to proceed. When the
ship came out in the fall, she brought a batch of new clerks, and among
them was this miserable chap Peterkin, whom we soon nicknamed _Butter_.
He was the softest fellow I ever knew (far worse than you, Hamilton),
and he hadn't been here a week before the wild blades from the interior,
who were bursting with fun and mischief, began to play off all kinds of
practical jokes upon him. The very first day he sat down at the
mess-table, our worthy governor (who, you are aware, detests practical
jokes) played him a trick, quite unintentionally, which raised a laugh
against him for many a day. You know that old Mr Rogan is rather
absent at times; well, the first day that Peterkin came to mess (it was
breakfast), the old governor asked him, in a patronising sort of way, to
sit at his right hand. Accordingly down he sat, and having never, I
fancy, been away from his mother's apron-string before, he seemed to
feel very uncomfortable, especially as he was regarded as a sort of
novelty. The first thing he did was to capsize his plate into his lap,
which set the youngsters at the lower end of the table into suppressed
fits of laughter. However, he was eating the leg of a dry grouse at the
time, so it didn't make much of a mess.
"`Try some fish, Peterkin,' said Mr Rogan kindly, seeing that the youth
was ill at ease. `That old grouse is tough enough to break your knife.'
"`A very rough passage,' replied the youngster, whose mind was quite
confused by hearing the captain of the ship, who sat next to him, giving
to his next neighbour a graphic account of the voyage in a very loud
key--`I mean, if you please, no, thank you,' he stammered, endeavouring
to correct himself.
"`Ah! a cup of tea perhaps.--Here, Anderson,' (turning to the butler),
`a cup of tea to Mr Peterkin.'
"The butler obeyed the order.
"`And here, fill my cup,' said old Rogan, interrupting himself in an
earnest conversation, into which he had plunged with the gentleman on
his left hand. As he said this he lifted his cup to empty the slops,
but without paying attention to what he was doing. As luck would have
it, the slop-basin was not at hand, and Peterkin's cup _was_, so he
emptied it innocently into that. Peterkin hadn't courage to arrest his
hand, and when the deed was done he looked timidly round to see if the
action had been observed. Nearly half the table had seen it, but they
pretended ignorance of the thing so well that he thought no one had
observed, and so went quietly on with his breakfast, and drank the tea!
But I am wandering from my story. Well, about this time there was a
young Indian who shot himself accidentally in the woods, and was brought
to the fort to see if anything could be done for him. The doctor
examined his wound, and found that the ball had passed through the upper
part of his right arm and the middle of his right thigh, breaking the
bone of the latter in its passage. It was an extraordinary shot for a
man to put into himself, for it would have been next to impossible even
for _another_ man to have done it, unless the Indian had been creeping
on all fours. When he was able to speak, however, he explained the
mystery. While running through a rough part of the wood after a wounded
bird, he stumbled and fell on all fours. The gun, which he was carrying
over his shoulder, holding it, as the Indians usually do, by the muzzle,
flew forward, and turned right round as he fell, so that the mouth of it
was presented towards him. Striking against the stem of a tree, it
exploded, and shot him through the arm and leg as described ere he had
time to rise. A comrade carried him to his lodge, and his wife brought
him in a canoe to the fort. For three or four days the doctor had hopes
of him, but at last he began to sink, and died on the sixth day after
his arrival. His wife and one or two friends buried him in our
graveyard, which lies, as you know, on that lonely-looking point just
below the powder-magazine. For several months previous to this our
worthy doctor had been making strenuous efforts to get an Indian skull
to send home to one of his medical friends, but without success. The
Indians could not be prevailed upon to cut off the head of one of their
dead countrymen for love or money, and the doctor had a dislike to the
idea, I suppose, of killing one for himself; but now here was a golden
opportunity. The Indian was buried near to the fort, and his relatives
had gone away to their tents again. What was to prevent his being dug
up? The doctor brooded over the thing for one hour and a half (being
exactly the length of time required to smoke out his large Turkey pipe),
and then sauntered into Wilson's room. Wilson was busy, as usual, at
some of his mechanical contrivances.
"Thrusting his hands deep into his breeches pockets and seating himself
on an old sea-chest, he began,--
"`I say, Wilson, will you do me a favour?'
"`That depends entirely on what the favour is,' he replied, without
raising his head from his work.
"`I want you to help me to cut off an Indian's head!'
"`Then I _won't_ do you the favour. But pray, don't humbug me just now;
I'm busy.'
"`No; but I'm serious, and I can't get it done without help, and I know
you're an obliging fellow. Besides, the savage is dead, and has no
manner of use for his head now.'
"Wilson turned round with a look of intelligence on hearing this.
"`Ha!' he exclaimed, `I see what you're up to; but I don't half like it.
In the first place, his friends would be terribly cut up if they heard
of it; and then I've no sort of aptitude for the work of a
resurrectionist; and then, if it got wind, we should never hear the last
of it; and then--'
"`And then,' interrupted the doctor, `it would be adding to the light of
medical science, you unaspiring monster.'
"`A light,' retorted Wilson, `which, in passing through _some_ members
of the medical profession, is totally absorbed, and reproduced in the
shape of impenetrable darkness.'
"`Now, don't object, my dear fellow; you _know_ you're going to do it,
so don't coquette with me, but agree at once.'
"`Well, I consent, upon one condition.'
"`And what is that?'
"`That you do not play any practical jokes on _me_ with the head when
you have got it.'
"`Agreed!' cried the doctor, laughing; `I give you my word of honour.
Now he has been buried three days already, so we must set about it at
once. Fortunately the graveyard is composed of a sandy soil, so he'll
keep for some time yet.'
"The two worthies then entered into a deep consultation as to how they
were to set about this deed of darkness. It was arranged that Wilson
should take his gun and sally forth a little before dark, as if he were
bent on an hour's sport, and, not forgetting his game-bag, proceed to
the graveyard, where the doctor engaged to meet him with a couple of
spades and a dark lantern. Accordingly, next evening, Mr Wilson, true
to his promise, shouldered his gun and sallied forth.
"It soon became an intensely dark night. Not a single star shone forth
to illumine the track along which he stumbled. Everything around was
silent and dark, and congenial with the work on which he was bent. But
Wilson's heart beat a little more rapidly than usual. He is a bold
enough man, as you know, but boldness goes for nothing when superstition
comes into play. However, he trudged along fearlessly enough till he
came to the thick woods just below the fort, into which he entered with
something of a qualm. Scarcely had he set foot on the narrow track that
leads to the graveyard, when he ran slap against the post that stands
there, but which, in his trepidation, he had entirely forgotten. This
quite upset the small amount of courage that remained, and he has since
confessed that if he had not had the hope of meeting with the doctor in
a few minutes, he would have turned round and fled at _that_ moment.
"Recovering a little from this accident, he hurried forward, but with
more caution; for although the night seemed as dark as could possibly be
while he was crossing the open country, it became speedily evident that
there were several shades of darkness which he had not yet conceived.
In a few minutes he came to the creek that runs past the graveyard, and
here again his nerves got another shake; for slipping his foot while in
the act of commencing the descent, he fell and rolled heavily to the
bottom, making noise enough in his fall to scare away all the ghosts in
the country. With a palpitating heart poor Wilson gathered himself up,
and searched for his gun, which fortunately had not been injured, and
then commenced to climb the opposite bank, starting at every twig that
snapped under his feet. On reaching the level ground again he breathed
a little more freely, and hurried forward with more speed than caution.
Suddenly he came into violent contact with a figure, which uttered a
loud growl as Wilson reeled backwards.
"`Back, you monster,' he cried, with a hysterical yell, `or I'll blow
your brains out!'
"`It's little good _that_ would do ye,' cried the doctor, as he came
forward. `Why, you stupid, what did you take me for? You've nearly
knocked out my brains as it is,' and the doctor rubbed his forehead
ruefully.
"`Oh, it's _you_, doctor!' said Wilson, feeling as if a ton weight had
been lifted off his heart; `I verily thought it was the ghost of the
poor fellow we're going to disturb. I do think you had better give it
up. Mischief will come of it, you'll see.'
"`Nonsense,' cried the doctor; `don't be a goose, but let's to work at
once. Why, I've got half the thing dug up already.' So saying, he led
the way to the grave, in which there was a large opening. Setting the
lantern down by the side of it, the two seized their spades and began to
dig as if in earnest.
"The fact is that the doctor was nearly as frightened as Wilson, and he
afterwards confessed to me that it was an immense relief to him when he
heard him fall down the bank of the creek, and knew by the growl he gave
that it was he.
"In about half an hour the doctor's spade struck upon the coffin lid,
which gave forth a hollow sound.
"`Now, then, we're about done with it,' said he, standing up to wipe
away the perspiration that trickled down his face. `Take the axe and
force up the lid, it's only fixed with common nails, while I--' He did
not finish the sentence, but drew a large scalping-knife from a sheath
which hung at his belt.
"Wilson shuddered and obeyed. A good wrench caused the lid to start,
and while he held it partially open the doctor inserted the knife. For
five minutes he continued to twist and work with his arms, muttering
between his teeth, every now and then, that he was a `tough subject,'
while the crackling of bones, and other disagreeable sounds, struck upon
the horrified ears of his companion.
"`All right,' he exclaimed at last, as he dragged a round object from
the coffin and let down the lid with a bang, at the same time placing
the savage's head with its ghastly features full in the blaze of the
lantern.
"`Now, then, close up,' said he, jumping out of the hole and shovelling
in the earth.
"In a few minutes they had filled the grave up and smoothed it down on
the surface, and then, throwing the head into the game-bag, retraced
their steps to the fort. Their nerves were by this time worked up to
such a pitch of excitement, and their minds filled with such a degree of
supernatural horror, that they tripped and stumbled over stumps and
branches innumerable in their double-quick march. Neither would confess
to the other, however, that he was afraid. They even attempted to pass
a few facetious remarks as they hurried along, but it would not do, so
they relapsed into silence till they came to the hollow beside the
powder-magazine. Here the doctor's foot happening to slip, he suddenly
grasped Wilson by the shoulder to support himself--a movement which,
being unexpected, made his friend leap, as he afterwards expressed it,
nearly out of his skin. This was almost too much for them. For a
moment they looked at each other as well as the darkness would permit,
when all at once a large stone, which the doctor's slip had
overbalanced, fell down the bank and through the bushes with a loud
crash. Nothing more was wanting. All further effort to disguise their
feelings was dropped. Leaping the rail of the open field in a
twinkling, they gave a simultaneous yell of consternation, and fled to
the fort like autumn leaves before the wind, never drawing breath till
they were safe within the pickets."
"But what has all this to do with Peterkin?" asked Harry, as the
accountant paused to relight his pipe and toss a fresh log on the fire.
"Have patience, lad; you shall hear."
The accountant stirred the logs with his toe, drew a few whiffs to see
that the pipe was properly ignited, and proceeded.
"For a day or two after this, the doctor was observed to be often
mysteriously engaged in an outhouse of which he kept the key. By some
means or other, the skipper, who is always up to mischief, managed to
discover the secret. Watching where the doctor hid the key, he
possessed himself of it one day, and sallied forth, bent on a lark of
some kind or other, but without very well knowing what. Passing the
kitchen, he observed Anderson, the butler, raking the fire out of the
large oven which stands in the back-yard.
"`Baking again, Anderson?' said he in passing. `You get soon through
with a heavy cargo of bread just now.'
"`Yes, sir; many mouths to feed, sir,' replied the butler, proceeding
with his work.
"The skipper sauntered on, and took the track which leads to the
boat-house, where he stood for some time in meditation. Casting up his
eyes, he saw Peterkin in the distance, looking as if he didn't very well
know what to do.
"A sudden thought struck him. Pulling off his coat, he seized a mallet
and a caulking-chisel, and began to belabour the side of a boat as if
his life depended on it. All at once he stopped and stood up, blowing
with the exertion.
"`Hollo, Peterkin!' he shouted, and waved his hand.
"Peterkin hastened towards him.
"`Well, sir,' said he, `do you wish to speak to me?'
"`Yes,' replied the skipper, scratching his head as if in great
perplexity. `I wish you to do me a favour, Peterkin, but I don't know
very well how to ask you.'
"`Oh, I shall be most happy,' said poor Butter eagerly, `if I can be of
any use to you.'
"`I don't doubt your willingness,' replied the other; `but then--the
doctor, you see--the fact is, Peterkin, the doctor being called away to
see a sick Indian, has entrusted me with a delicate piece of business--
rather a nasty piece of business, I may say--which I promised to do for
him. You must know that the Surgical Society of London has written to
him, begging, as a great favour, that he would, if possible, procure
them the skull of a native. After much trouble he has succeeded in
getting one, but is obliged to keep it a great secret, even from his
fellow-clerks, lest it should get wind; for if the Indians heard of it
they would be sure to kill him, and perhaps burn the fort too. Now I
suppose you are aware that it is necessary to boil an Indian's head in
order to get the flesh clean off the skull?'
"`Yes; I have heard something of that sort from the students at college,
who say that boiling brings flesh more easily away from the bone. But I
don't know much about it,' replied Peterkin.
"`Well,' continued the skipper, `the doctor, who is fond of experiments,
wishes to try whether _baking_ won't do better than _boiling_, and
ordered the oven to be heated for that purpose this morning; but being
called suddenly away, as I have said, he begged me to put the head into
it as soon as it was ready. I agreed, quite forgetting at the time that
I had to get this precious boat ready for sea this very afternoon. Now
the oven is prepared, and I dare not leave my work; indeed, I doubt
whether I shall have it quite ready and taut after all, and there's the
oven cooling; so, if you don't help me, I'm a lost man.'
"Having said this, the skipper looked as miserable as his jolly visage
would permit, and rubbed his nose.
"`Oh, I'll be happy to do it for you, although it is not an agreeable
job,' replied Butter.
"`That's right--that's friendly now!' exclaimed the skipper, as if
greatly relieved. `Give us your flipper, my lad;' and seizing
Peterkin's hand, he wrung it affectionately. `Now, here is the key of
the outhouse; do it as quickly as you can, and don't let any one see
you. It's in a good cause, you know, but the results might be terrible
if discovered.'
"So saying, the skipper fell to hammering the boat again with surprising
vigour till Butter was out of sight, and then resuming his coat,
returned to the house.
"An hour after this, Anderson went to take his loaves out of the oven;
but he had no sooner taken down the door than a rich odour of cooked
meat greeted his nostrils. Uttering a deep growl, the butler shouted
out, `Sprat!'
"Upon this, a very thin boy, with arms and legs like pipe stems, issued
from the kitchen, and came timidly towards his master.
"`Didn't I tell you, you young blackguard, that the grouse-pie was to be
kept for Sunday? and there you've gone and put it to fire to-day.'
"`The grouse-pie!' said the boy, in amazement.
"`Yes, the grouse-pie,' retorted the indignant butler; and seizing the
urchin by the neck, he held his head down to the mouth of the oven.
"`Smell _that_, you villain! What did you mean by it, eh?'
"`Oh, murder!' shouted the boy, as with a violent effort he freed
himself, and ran shrieking into the house.
"`Murder!' repeated Anderson in astonishment, while he stooped to look
into the oven, where the first thing that met his gaze was a human head,
whose ghastly visage and staring eyeballs worked and moved about under
the influence of the heat as if it were alive.
"With a yell that rang through the whole fort, the horrified butler
rushed through the kitchen and out at the front door, where, as ill-luck
would have it, Mr Rogan happened to be standing at the moment.
Pitching head first into the small of the old gentleman's back, he threw
him off the platform and fell into his arms. Starting up in a moment,
the governor dealt Anderson a cuff that sent him reeling towards the
kitchen door again, on the steps of which he sat down, and began to sing
out, `Oh, murder, murder! the oven, the oven!' and not another word,
bad, good, or indifferent, could be got out of him for the next
half-hour, as he swayed himself to and fro and wrung his hands.
"To make a long story short, Mr Rogan went himself to the oven, and
fished out the head, along with the loaves, which were, of course, all
spoiled."
"And what was the result?" inquired Harry.
"Oh, there was a long investigation, and the skipper got a blowing-up,
and the doctor a warning to let Indians' skulls lie at peace in their
graves for the future; and poor Butter was sent to McKenzie's River as a
punishment, for old Rogan could never be brought to believe that he
hadn't been a willing tool in the skipper's hands; and Anderson lost his
batch of bread and his oven, for it had to be pulled down and a new one
built."
"Humph! and I've no doubt the governor read you a pretty stiff lecture
on practical joking."
"He did," replied the accountant, laying aside his pipe, and drawing the
green blanket over him, while Harry piled several large logs on the
fire.
"Good-night," said the accountant.
"Good-night," replied his companions; and in a few minutes more they
were sound asleep in their snowy camp, while the huge fire continued,
during the greater part of the night, to cast its light on their
slumbering forms.