AN UNEXPECTED MEETING, AND AN UNEXPECTED DEER-HUNT--ARRIVAL AT THE
OUTPOST--DISAGREEMENT WITH THE NATIVES--AN ENEMY DISCOVERED, AND A
MURDER.
Next morning they rose with the sun, and therefore also with the birds
and beasts.
A wide traverse of the lake now lay before them. This they crossed in
about two hours, during which time they paddled unremittingly, as the
sky looked rather lowering, and they were well aware of the danger of
being caught in a storm in such an egg-shell craft as an Indian canoe.
"We'll put in here now, Mister Harry," exclaimed Jacques, as the canoe
entered the mouth of one of those small rivulets which are called in
Scotland _burns_, and in America _creeks_; "it's like that your appetite
is sharpened after a spell like that. Keep her head a little more to
the left--straight for the p'int--so. It's likely we'll get some fish
here if we set the net."
"I say, Jacques, is yon a cloud or a wreath of smoke above the trees in
the creek?" inquired Harry, pointing with his paddle towards the object
referred to.
"It's smoke, master; I've see'd it for some time, and mayhap we'll find
some Injins there who can give us news of the traders at Stoney Creek."
"And, pray, how far do you think we may now be from that place?"
inquired Harry.
"Forty miles, more or less."
As he spoke, the canoe entered the shallow water of the creek, and began
to ascend the current of the stream, which at its mouth was so sluggish
as to be scarcely perceptible to the eye. Not so, however, to the arms.
The light bark, which, while floating on the lake, had glided buoyantly
forward as if it were itself consenting to the motion, had now become
apparently imbued with a spirit of contradiction, bounding convulsively
forward at each stroke of the paddles, and perceptibly losing speed at
each interval. Directing their course towards a flat rock on the left
bank of the stream, they ran the prow out of the water and leaped
ashore. As they did so, the unexpected figure of a man issued from the
bushes and sauntered towards the spot. Harry and Hamilton advanced to
meet him, while Jacques remained to unload the canoe. The stranger was
habited in the usual dress of a hunter, and carried a fowling-piece over
his right shoulder. In general appearance he looked like an Indian; but
though the face was burned by exposure to a hue that nearly equalled the
red skins of the natives, a strong dash of pink in it, and the mass of
fair hair which encircled it, proved that, as Harry paradoxically
expressed it, its owner was a _white_ man. He was young, considerably
above the middle height, and apparently athletic. His address and
language on approaching the young men put the question of his being a
_white_ man beyond a doubt.
"Good-morning, gentlemen," he began. "I presume that you are the party
we have been expecting for some time past to reinforce our staff at
Stoney Creek. Is it not so?"
To this query young Somerville, who stood in advance of his friend, made
no reply, but stepping hastily forward, laid a hand on each of the
stranger's shoulders, and gazed earnestly into his face, exclaiming as
he did so--
"Do my eyes deceive me? Is Charley Kennedy before me--or his ghost?"
"What! eh," exclaimed the individual thus addressed, returning Harry's
gripe and stare with interest, "is it possible? No--it cannot--Harry
Somerville, my old, dear, unexpected friend!"--and pouring out broken
sentences, abrupt ejaculations, and incoherent questions, to which
neither vouchsafed replies, the two friends gazed at and walked round
each other, shook hands, partially embraced, and committed sundry other
extravagances, utterly unconscious of, or indifferent to, the fact that
Hamilton was gazing at them, open-mouthed, in a species of stupor, and
that Jacques was standing by, regarding them with a look of mingled
amusement and satisfaction. The discovery of this latter personage was
a source of renewed delight and astonishment to Charley, who was so much
upset by the commotion of his spirits, in consequence of this, so to
speak, double shot, that he became rambling and incoherent in his speech
during the remainder of that day, and gave vent to frequent and sudden
bursts of smothered enthusiasm, in which it would appear, from the
occasional muttering of the names of Redfeather and Jacques, that he not
only felicitated himself on his own good fortune, but also anticipated
renewed pleasure in witnessing the joyful meeting of these two worthies
ere long. In fact, this meeting did take place on the following day,
when Redfeather, returning from a successful hunt, with part of a deer
on his shoulders, entered Charley's tent, in which the travellers had
spent the previous day and night, and discovered the guide gravely
discussing a venison steak before the fire.
It would be vain to attempt a description of all that the reunited
friends said and did during the first twenty-four hours after their
meeting: how they talked of old times, as they lay extended round the
fire inside of Charley's tent, and recounted their adventures by flood
and field since they last met; how they sometimes diverged into
questions of speculative philosophy (as conversations _will_ often
diverge, whether we wish it or not), and broke short off to make sudden
inquiries after old friends; how this naturally led them to talk of new
friends and new scenes, until they began to forecast their eyes a little
into the future; and how, on feeling that this was an uncongenial theme
under present circumstances, they reverted again to the past, and by a
peculiar train of conversation--to retrace which were utterly
impossible--they invariably arrived at _old_ times again. Having in
course of the evening pretty well exhausted their powers, both mental
and physical, they went to sleep on it, and resumed the colloquial
_melange_ in the morning.
"And now tell me, Charley, what you are doing in this uninhabited part
of the world, so far from Stoney Creek," said Harry Somerville, as they
assembled round the fire to breakfast.
"That is soon explained," replied Charley. "My good friend and
superior, Mr Whyte, having got himself comfortably housed at Stoney
Creek, thought it advisable to establish a sort of half outpost, half
fishing-station, about twenty miles below the new fort, and believing
(very justly) that my talents lay a good deal in the way of fishing and
shooting, sent me to superintend it during the summer months. I am,
therefore, at present monarch of that notable establishment, which is
not yet dignified with a name. Hearing that there were plenty of deer
about twenty miles below my palace, I resolved the other day to gratify
my love of sport, and at the same time procure some venison for Stoney
Creek; accordingly, I took Redfeather with me, and--here I am."
"Very good," said Harry; "and can you give us the least idea of what
they are going to do with my friend Hamilton and me when they get us?"
"Can't say. One of you, at any rate, will be kept at the creek, to
assist Mr Whyte; the other may, perhaps, be appointed to relieve me at
the fishing for a time, while _I_ am sent off to push the trade in other
quarters. But I'm only guessing. I don't know anything definitely, for
Mr Whyte is by no means communicative."
"An' please, master," put in Jacques, "when do you mean to let us off
from this place? I guess the bourgeois won't be over pleased if we
waste time here."
"We'll start this forenoon, Jacques. I and Redfeather shall go along
with you, as I intended to take a run up to the creek about this time at
any rate.--Have you the skins and dried meat packed, Redfeather?"
To this the Indian replied in the affirmative, and the others having
finished breakfast, the whole party rose to prepare for departure, and
set about loading their canoes forthwith. An hour later they were again
cleaving the waters of the lake, with this difference in arrangement,
that Jacques was transferred to Redfeather's canoe, while Charley
Kennedy took his place in the stern of that occupied by Harry and
Hamilton.
The establishment of which our friend Charley pronounced himself
absolute monarch, and at which they arrived in the course of the same
afternoon, consisted of two small log houses or huts, constructed in the
rudest fashion, and without any attempt whatever at architectural
embellishment. It was pleasantly situated on a small bay, whose
northern extremity was sheltered from the arctic blast by a gentle
rising ground clothed with wood. A miscellaneous collection of fishing
apparatus lay scattered about in front of the buildings, and two men in
a canoe completed the picture. The said two men and an Indian woman
were the inhabitants of the place; the king himself, when present, and
his prime minister, Redfeather, being the remainder of the population.
"Pleasant little kingdom that of yours, Charley," remarked Harry
Somerville, as they passed the station.
"Very," was the laconic reply.
They had scarcely passed the place above a mile, when a canoe,
containing a solitary Indian, was observed to shoot out from the shore
and paddle hastily towards them. From this man they learned that a herd
of deer was passing down towards the lake, and would be on its banks in
a few minutes. He had been waiting their arrival when the canoes came
in sight, and induced him to hurry out so as to give them warning.
Having no time to lose, the whole party now paddled swiftly for the
shore, and reached it just a few minutes before the branching antlers of
the deer came in sight above the low bushes that skirted the wood.
Harry Somerville embarked in the bow of the strange Indian's canoe, so
as to lighten the other, and enable all parties to have a fair chance.
After snuffing the breeze for a few seconds, the foremost animal took
the water, and commenced swimming towards the opposite shore of the
lake, which at this particular spot was narrow. It was followed by
seven others. After sufficient time was permitted to elapse to render
their being cut off, in an attempt to return, quite certain, the three
canoes darted from the shelter of the overhanging bushes, and sprang
lightly over the water in pursuit.
"Don't hurry, and strike sure," cried Jacques to his young friends, as
they came up with the terrified deer that now swam for their lives.
"Ay, ay," was the reply.
In another moment they shot in among the struggling group. Harry
Somerville stood up, and seizing the Indian's spear, prepared to strike,
while his companions directed their course towards others of the herd.
A few seconds sufficed to bring him up with it. Leaning backwards a
little, so as to give additional force to the blow, he struck the spear
deep into the animal's back. With a convulsive struggle, it ceased to
swim, its head sank slowly, and in another second it lay dead upon the
water. Without waiting a moment, the Indian immediately directed the
canoe towards another deer; while the remainder of the party, now
considerably separated from each other, dispatched the whole herd by
means of axes and knives.
"Ha!" exclaimed Jacques, as they towed their booty to the shore, "that's
a good stock o' meat, Mister Charles. It will help to furnish the
larder for the winter pretty well."
"It was much wanted, Jacques: we've a good many mouths to feed, besides
_treating_ the Indians now and then. And this fellow, I think, will
claim the most of the hunt as his own. We should not have got the deer
but for him."
"True, true, Mister Charles. They belong to the redskin by rights,
that's sartin."
After this exploit, another night was passed under the trees; and at
noon on the day following they ran their canoe alongside the wooden
wharf at Stoney Creek.
"Good-day to you, gentlemen," said Mr Whyte to Harry and Hamilton as
they landed; "I've been looking out for you these two weeks past. Glad
you've come at last, however. Plenty to do, and no time to lose. You
have dispatches, of course. Ah! that's right," (Harry drew a sealed
packet from his bosom and presented it with a bow), "that's right. I
must peruse these at once.--Mr Kennedy, you will show these gentlemen
their quarters. We dine in half an hour." So saying, Mr Whyte thrust
the packet into his pocket, and without further remark strode towards
his dwelling; while Charley, as instructed, led his friends to their new
residence--not forgetting, however, to charge Redfeather to see to the
comfortable lodgment of Jacques Caradoc.
"Now it strikes me," remarked Harry, as he sat down on the edge of
Charley's bed and thrust his hands doggedly down into his pockets, while
Hamilton tucked up his sleeves and assaulted a washhand-basin which
stood on an unpainted wooden chair in a corner--"it strikes me that if
_that's_ his usual style of behaviour, old Whyte is a pleasure that we
didn't anticipate."
"Don't judge from first impressions; they're often deceptive,"
spluttered Hamilton, pausing in his ablutions to look at his friend
through a mass of soap-suds--an act which afterwards cost him a good
deal of pain and a copious flow of unbidden tears.
"Right," exclaimed Charley, with an approving nod to Hamilton.--"You
must not judge him prematurely, Harry. He's a good-hearted fellow at
bottom; and if he once takes a liking for you, he'll go through fire and
water to serve you, as I know from experience."
"Which means to say _three_ things," replied the implacable Harry:
"first, that for all his good-heartedness at _bottom_, he never shows
any of it at top, and is therefore like unto truth, which is said to lie
at the bottom of a well--so deep, in fact, that it is never got out, and
so is of use to nobody; secondly, that he is possessed of that amount of
affection which is common to all mankind (to a great extent even to
brutes), which prompts a man to be reasonably attentive to his friends;
and thirdly, that you, Master Kennedy, enjoy the peculiar privilege of
being the friend of a two-legged polar bear!"
"Were I not certain that you jest," retorted Kennedy, "I would compel
you to apologise to me for insulting my friend, you rascal! But see,
here's the cook coming to tell us that dinner waits. If you don't wish
to see the teeth of the polar bear, I'd advise you to be smart."
Thus admonished, Harry sprang up, plunged his hands and face in the
basin and dried them, broke Charley's comb in attempting to pass it
hastily through his hair, used his fingers savagely as a substitute, and
overtook his companions just as they entered the messroom.
The establishment of Stoney Creek was comprised within two acres of
ground. It consisted of eight or nine houses--three of which, however,
alone met the eye on approaching by the lake. The "great" house, as it
was termed, on account of its relative proportion to the other
buildings, was a small edifice, built substantially but roughly of
unsquared logs, partially whitewashed, roofed with shingles, and
boasting six small windows in front, with a large door between them. On
its east side, and at right angles to it, was a similar edifice, but
smaller, having two doors instead of one, and four windows instead of
six. This was the trading-shop and provision-store. Opposite to this
was a twin building which contained the furs and a variety of
miscellaneous stores. Thus were formed three sides of a square, from
the centre of which rose a tall flagstaff. The buildings behind those
just described were smaller and insignificant--the principal one being
the house appropriated to the men; the others were mere sheds and
workshops. Luxuriant forests ascended the slopes that rose behind and
encircled this oasis on all sides, excepting in front, where the clear
waters of the lake sparkled like a blue mirror.
On the margin of this lake the new arrivals, left to enjoy themselves as
they best might for a day or two, sauntered about and chatted to their
hearts' content of things past, present, and future.
During these wanderings, Harry confessed that his opinion of Mr Whyte
had somewhat changed: that he believed a good deal of the first bad
impression was attributable to his cool, not to say impolite, reception
of them; and that he thought things would go on much better with the
Indians if he would only try to let some of his good qualities be seen
through his exterior.
An expression of sadness passed over Charley's face as his friend said
this.
"You are right in the last particular," he said, with a sigh. "Mr
Whyte is so rough and overbearing that the Indians are beginning to
dislike him. Some of the more clear-sighted among them see that a good
deal of this lies in mere manner, and have penetration enough to observe
that in all his dealings with them he is straightforward and liberal;
but there are a set of them who either don't see this, or are so
indignant at the rough speeches he often makes, and the rough treatment
he sometimes threatens, that they won't forgive him, but seem to be
nursing their wrath. I sometimes wish he was sent to a district where
the Indians and traders are, from habitual intercourse, more accustomed
to each other's ways, and so less likely to quarrel."
"Have the Indians, then, used any open threats?" asked Harry.
"No, not exactly; but through an old man of the tribe, who is well
affected towards us, I have learned that there is a party among them who
seem bent on mischief."
"Then we may expect a row some day or other. That's pleasant!--What
think you, Hammy?" said Harry, turning to his friend.
"I think that it would be anything but pleasant," he replied; "and I
sincerely hope that we shall not have occasion for a row."
"You're not afraid of a fight, are you, Hamilton?" asked Charley.
The peculiarly bland smile with which Hamilton usually received any
remark that savoured of banter overspread his features as Charley spoke,
but he merely replied,--"No, Charley, I'm not afraid."
"Do you know any of the Indians who are so anxious to vent their spleen
on our worthy bourgeois?" asked Harry, as he seated himself on a rocky
eminence commanding a view of the richly-wooded slopes, dotted with huge
masses of rock that had fallen from the beetling cliffs behind the
creek.
"Yes, I do," replied Charley; "and, by the way, one of them--the
ringleader--is a man with whom you are acquainted, at least by name.
You've heard of an Indian called Misconna?"
"What!" exclaimed Harry, with a look of surprise; "you don't mean the
blackguard mentioned by Redfeather, long ago, when he told us his story
on the shores of Lake Winnipeg--the man who killed poor Jacques's young
wife?"
"The same," replied Charley.
"And does Jacques know he is here?"
"He does; but Jacques is a strange, unaccountable mortal. You remember
that in the struggle described by Redfeather the trapper and Misconna
had neither of them seen each other, Redfeather having felled the latter
before the former reached the scene of action--a scene which, he has
since told me, he witnessed at a distance, while rushing to the rescue
of his wife--so that Misconna is utterly ignorant of the fact that the
husband of his victim is now so near him; indeed, he does not know that
she had a husband at all. On the other hand, although Jacques is aware
that his bitterest enemy is within rifle-range of him at this moment, he
does not know him by sight; and this morning he came to me, begging that
I would send Misconna on some expedition or other, just to keep him out
of his way."
"And do you intend to do so?"
"I shall do my best," replied Charley; "but I cannot get him out of the
way till to-morrow, as there is to be a gathering of Indians in the hall
this very day, to have a palaver with Mr Whyte about their grievances,
and Misconna wouldn't miss that for a trifle. But Jacques won't be
likely to recognise him among so many; and if he does, I rely with
confidence on his powers of restraint and forbearance.--By the way," he
continued, glancing upwards, "it is past noon, and the Indians will have
begun to assemble; so we had better hasten back, as we shall be expected
to help in keeping order."
So saying, he rose, and the young men returned to the fort. On reaching
it they found the hall crowded with natives, who sat cross-legged around
the walls, or stood in groups conversing in low tones, and to judge from
the expression of their dark eyes and lowering brows, they were in
extremely bad humour. They became silent and more respectful, however,
in their demeanour when the young men entered the apartment and walked
up to the fireplace, in which a small fire of wood burned on the hearth,
more as a convenient means of rekindling the pipes of the Indians when
they went out than as a means of heating the place. Jacques and
Redfeather stood leaning against the wall near to it, engaged in a
whispered conversation. Glancing round as he entered, Charley observed
Misconna sitting a little apart by himself, and apparently buried in
deep thought. He had scarcely perceived him, and nodded to several of
his particular friends among the crowd, when a side-door opened, and Mr
Whyte, with an angry expression on his countenance, strode up to the
fireplace, planted himself before it, with his legs apart and his hands
behind him, while he silently surveyed the group.
"So," he began, "you have asked to speak with me; well, here I am. What
have you to say?"
Mr Whyte addressed the Indians in their native tongue, having, during a
long residence in the country, learned to speak it as fluently as
English.
For some moments there was silence. Then an old chief--the same who had
officiated at the feast described in a former chapter--rose, and
standing forth into the middle of the room, made a long and grave
oration, in which, besides a great deal that was bombastic, much that
was irrelevant, and more that was utterly fabulous and nonsensical, he
recounted the sorrows of himself and his tribe, concluding with a
request that the great chief would take these things into
consideration--the principal "_things_" being that they did not get
anything in the shape of gratuities, while it was notorious that the
Indians in other districts did, and that they did not get enough of
goods in advance, on credit of their future hunts.
Mr Whyte heard the old man to the end in silence; then, without
altering his position, he looked round on the assembly with a frown, and
said, "Now listen to me; I am a man of few words. I have told you over
and over again, and now repeat it, that you shall get no gratuities
until you prove yourselves worthy of them. I shall not increase your
advances by so much as half an inch of tobacco till your last year's
debts are scored off, and you begin to show more activity in hunting and
less disposition to grumble. Hitherto you have not brought in anything
like the quantity of furs that the capabilities of the country led me to
expect. You are lazy. Until you become better hunters you shall have
no redress from me."
As he finished, Mr Whyte made a step towards the door by which he had
entered, but was arrested by another chief, who requested to be heard.
Resuming his place and attitude, Mr Whyte listened with an expression
of dogged determination, while guttural grunts of unequivocal
dissatisfaction issued from the throats of several of the malcontents.
The Indian proceeded to repeat a few of the remarks made by his
predecessor, but more concisely, and wound up by explaining that the
failure in the hunts of the previous year was owing to the will of the
Great Manito, and not by any means on account of the supposed laziness
of himself or his tribe.
"That is false," said Mr Whyte; "you know it is not true."
As this was said, a murmur of anger ran round the apartment, which was
interrupted by Misconna, who, apparently unable to restrain his passion,
sprang into the middle of the room, and confronting Mr Whyte, made a
short and pithy speech, accompanied by violent gesticulation, in which
he insinuated that if redress was not granted the white men would
bitterly repent it.
During his speech the Indians had risen to their feet and drawn closer
together, while Jacques and the three young men drew near their
superior. Redfeather remained apart, motionless, and with his eyes
fixed on the ground.
"And, pray, what dog--what miserable, thieving cur--are you, who dare to
address me thus?" cried Mr Whyte, as he strode, with flashing eyes, up
to the enraged Indian.
Misconna clinched his teeth, and his fingers worked convulsively about
the handle of his knife, as he exclaimed, "I am no dog. The palefaces
are dogs. I am a great chief. My name is known among the braves of my
tribe. It is Misconna--"
As the name fell from his lips, Mr Whyte and Charley were suddenly
dashed aside, and Jacques sprang towards the Indian, his face livid, his
eyeballs almost bursting from their sockets, and his muscles rigid with
passion. For an instant he regarded the savage intently as he shrank
appalled before him; then his colossal fist fell like lightning, with
the weight of a sledge-hammer, on Misconna's forehead, and drove him
against the outer door, which, giving way before the violent shock,
burst from its fastenings and hinges, and fell, along with the savage,
with a loud crash to the ground.
For an instant every one stood aghast at this precipitate termination to
the discussion, and then, springing forward in a body, with drawn
knives, the Indians rushed upon the white men, who in a close phalanx,
with such weapons as came first to hand, stood to receive them. At this
moment Redfeather stepped forward unarmed between the belligerents, and
turning to the Indians, said--
"Listen: Redfeather does not take the part of his white friends against
his comrades. You know that he never failed you in the war-path, and he
would not fail you now if your cause were just. But the eyes of his
comrades are shut. Redfeather knows what they do not know. The white
hunter" (pointing to Jacques) "is a friend of Redfeather. He is a
friend of the Knisteneux. He did not strike because you disputed with
his bourgeois; he struck because Misconna _is his mortal foe_. But the
story is long. Redfeather will tell it at the council fire."
"He is right," exclaimed Jacques, who had recovered his usual grave
expression of countenance, "Redfeather is right. I bear you no
ill-will, Injins, and I shall explain the thing myself at your council
fire."
As Jacques spoke the Indians sheathed their knives, and stood with
frowning brows, as if uncertain what to do. The unexpected interference
of their comrade-in-arms, coupled with his address and that of Jacques,
had excited their curiosity. Perhaps the undaunted deportment of their
opponents, who stood ready for the encounter with a look of stern
determination, contributed a little to allay their resentment.
While the two parties stood thus confronting each other, as if uncertain
how to act, a loud report was heard just outside the doorway. In
another moment Mr Whyte fell heavily to the ground, shot through the
heart.