PURSUIT AND CAPTURE OF A WHITE WOLF--LAURENCE'S DREAM--JOURNEY TO THE
FORT OVER THE SNOW--FRIENDLY RECEPTION AT THE FORT--LAURENCE FALLS SICK.
The old trapper and his son crept cautiously among the rocks and shrubs
towards the spot where the traps had been set around their slaughtered
steeds. Moggs cocked his rifle as his keen eye fell on a large white
wolf, which, caught by the leg in one of the traps, was making desperate
efforts to free itself, and appeared every instant on the point of
succeeding. As they drew near, the ferocious animal, with its mouth
wide open, its teeth broken in its attempts to gnaw the iron trap, and
its head covered with blood, sprang forward to reach them, but the trap
held it fast.
"Keep behind me, Laurence," said Michael. "If the creature gets loose,
it will need a steady aim to bring it to the ground." Not for a moment
did the wolf turn round to fly, but again and again it sprang forward as
far as the chain would allow it.
Although old Michael knew nothing of the humanity which would avoid
allowing any of God's creatures to suffer unnecessary pain, he was
preparing to put an end to its agonies, when the creature, by a frantic
effort, freeing itself, sprang towards him. Laurence uttered a cry of
terror; for he expected the next moment to see its savage jaws fixed in
his father's throat; but the old man, standing calm and unmoved, fired,
and the animal fell dead at his feet.
"Did ye think, Laurence, that I could not manage a single wolf," he
said, half turning round with a reproachful look towards the boy, who
had not yet recovered from his alarm. "This is a prize worth having,
though. It has not often been my luck to kill a white wolf, and we may
barter this skin with the Crees for six of the best mustangs they have
got. While I skin the varmint, see what the other traps have been
about." Laurence went forward to examine them.
"Here is a foot in one of them," he exclaimed. "The creature must have
gnawed it off, and got away. The other trap has been pulled up. I can
see the tracks it has left, as the animal dragged it away."
"We will be after it, then," cried Moggs. "If it is another white wolf
we shall be well repaid indeed for the loss of our steeds, though we
have to carry our packs till we can reach the fort. Come, Laurence,
help me to finish off this work."
The skin was added to the already heavy load which old Moggs carried,
and the traps hid in a spot which, with his experienced eye, he could
without difficulty find.
"Now Laurence," he exclaimed, "we will be after the runaway."
The keen sight of the old man easily distinguished the marks left on the
ground by the heavy trap as the animal trailed it behind him. The
creature, after going some way along the valley, had taken to the higher
ground, where its traces were still more easily distinguished upon the
crust of the snow which lay there. The white wolf had got some distance
ahead, when at length, to the delight of old Moggs, he discovered it
with the trap at its heels. It seemed to know that its pursuers were
close behind. Off it scampered at a rapid trot, now over the rugged and
broken surface of rocks, now descending into ravines, now going north,
now south, making numerous zigzag courses in its efforts to escape and
deceive the hunters. Still old Moggs pursued, regardless of fatigue,
though Laurence had great difficulty in keeping up with him, and often
felt as if he must drop. His father encouraged him to continue the
chase, promising soon to overtake the creature. At length, however,
Laurence could go no further, and sank down on a hill, over which they
had just climbed, and were about to descend to a valley below them.
"Rest there till I come back, then, boy," exclaimed the hardy old
trapper, a slight tone of contempt mixed with his expression of pity.
"The wolf I must have, even though he leads me a score of miles further.
Here, take the tinder-box and axe, and make a fire; by the time I come
back we shall need some food, after our chase."
Having given Laurence the articles he mentioned, with a handful of
pemmican from his wallet, he hastened down the hill, in the direction
the wolf had taken along the valley.
Young Laurence was too much accustomed to those wilds to feel any alarm
at being left alone; and as soon as he had somewhat rested, he set to
work to cut a supply of dried branches from the surrounding shrubs, with
which he quickly formed a blazing fire. The pemmican, or pounded
buffalo meat, further restored his strength, and he began to think that
he would follow in the direction his father had taken, to save him from
having to ascend the hill. When he began to move, however, he felt so
weary that he again sank down by the side of the fire, where in a short
time he fell asleep. Wild dreams troubled his slumbers, and
long-forgotten scenes came back to his mind. He was playing in a garden
among flowers in front of a neat and pretty dwelling, with the waters of
a tranquil lake shining far below. He heard the gentle voice of one he
trusted, whose fair sweet face ever smiled on him as he gambolled near
her. The voice was hastily calling him, when suddenly he was lifted up
and carried away far from her shrieks and cries. The rattle of musketry
echoed in his ears, then he was borne down a rapid stream, the waters
hissing and foaming around. Now numberless Indians, in war-paint and
feathers, danced frantically before his eyes, and huge fires blazed up,
and again shrieks echoed in his ears. Then a monstrous animal, with
glaring eyeballs, burst into their midst, putting the Indians to flight,
and scattering their fires far and wide, yelling and roaring savagely.
He started up, when what was his horror to see the fierce white wolf his
father had been pursuing rushing towards him with the chain and trap
still trailing at his heels. Spell-bound, he felt unable to rise. In
another moment the enraged wolf would be upon him, when a rifle shot
rang through the air, and the wolf dropped dead close to where he lay.
"Art safe, Laurence, art unhurt, boy?" exclaimed the old trapper, who
came, breathless, hurrying up the side of the hill. "The brute doubled
cunningly on me, and thinking, from the way he was leading, that he
would pass near where I left you, I took a short cut, in hopes of being
before him. I was nearly too late, and twice before I had fired,
shouting to you to be on your guard. It's not often my rifle has failed
to kill even at that distance."
Laurence relieved his father's anxiety by showing him that he was
unhurt; and greatly to the old trapper's satisfaction, on examining the
wolf, three bullet holes were found in the skin, showing that his
favourite rifle had not missed, although the first shots had failed to
kill.
The prized skin having been secured, as it was too heavy to carry, in
addition to their previous loads, it was hidden, as the traps had been,
in a hollow in the rocks.
"Little chance of its escaping from Indians or wolverines, though I am
loath to abandon it," observed the old man, as he placed the last of a
large pile of stones in front of the cave. "But the snow will be down,
may be this very night, and then it will be safe."
They now proceeded down the valley, and continued on till they reached
the edge of a small wood, where they encamped for the night. For
several days they journeyed on towards the south and east, not meeting,
as they passed over those desert wilds, a single human being.
"Once, when I first knew this region, many thousand warriors, with their
squaws and children, were masters here," observed old Moggs. "But they
are all gone; the white man's gunpowder, and his still more deadly
fire-water, have carried off the greater number. Famine visited them
when they themselves had slaughtered most of the creatures which gave
them food, without having learned other means for obtaining support.
Before that time, neither white nor red trappers had to go more than a
few days' journey from the forts to obtain as many skins as they
needed."
"I wish those times would come back again," said the boy. "For my legs
feel as if they would soon refuse to carry me further."
"Cheer up, lad, we will camp soon, and in a few days more we shall be at
the fort, when you shall have the rest I promised you."
"But you will not quit me then, father, will you?" asked Laurence.
"Well, well, I must buy fresh horses to bring in the skins and traps,
and to prepare for the next season," answered Michael. "I have no wish
to leave you, lad; so don't let that trouble you just now."
The first fall of snow for that winter had now come down, and thickly
covered the ground. For several days it compelled the trapper and his
son to keep within the shelter of their wigwam. Once more they set out.
After travelling severe days, young Laurence, though he had partially
recovered, again felt ready to give way. Still he trudged with his load
by his father's side. The cold had greatly increased; but though he had
hitherto been indifferent to it, he felt that he would rather lie down
and die than proceed further. The old man took his arm, and did his
utmost to encourage him.
They at length reached a wood of birch and firs. "Oh, father, let us
camp here, for I can move on no longer," cried Laurence, in a piteous
tone.
"Cheer up, cheer up, boy," said the old trapper, repeating the
expression he had frequently of late uttered. "A few steps farther, and
we shall see the fort."
The poor lad struggled on. The sun was sinking low in the sky, when,
just as they doubled the wood, its beams fell on the stockaded sides of
a fort, situated on slightly elevated ground out of the prairie.
"There's our resting place at last," exclaimed the old man, pointing
with his hand towards the fort. "Keep up your courage, and we shall
reach it before dark. The peltries we bring will ensure us a welcome;
and though I trust not to the white men who live in cities, the chief
factor there calls me his friend, and has a heart which I doubt not will
feel compassion for your youth. He will treat you kindly for my sake,
though most of the traders such as he care little for the old trapper
who has spent his whole life in toiling for them."
Michael continuing to support the tottering steps of his son, they at
last reached the gates of the fort, which were opened to give them
admittance, their approach having been observed from the look-out towers
on the walls. The stockade surrounded an area of considerable size,
within which were the residences of the factor and clerks, several large
storehouses, and huts for the accommodation of the garrison and hunters,
and casual visitors. Altogether, to Michael's eyes, it appeared a place
of great importance. A number of voyageurs and half-breeds, in their
picturesque costumes, were strolling about; multitudes of children were
playing at the doors of the huts; and women were seen going to and from
the stores, or occupied in their daily avocations. Laurence felt
somewhat awe-struck on finding himself among so many strangers, and kept
close to his father. At their entrance they had been saluted by a pack
of savage-looking sleigh-dogs, which came out barking at the new-comers,
but were quickly driven back to their quarters by their masters.
"Don't mind them, Laurence," said Michael. "As soon as they find that
we are treated as friends, they will cease their yelping, and come
humbly to our feet to seek our favour."
Michael inquired for Mr Ramsay, the chief factor.
"There he comes from his house," answered the man to whom he had
addressed himself.
"What! old friend! I am right glad to see you again," exclaimed Mr
Ramsay, advancing, and with frank cordiality shaking the old trapper by
the hand. "I was afraid, from your long absence, that you would never
find your way back to the fort. And who is this lad? He seems very
young for the life of a trapper."
Michael then introduced Laurence, and narrated how they had lost their
horses and been compelled to tramp the whole distance on foot, not
having met any Indians from whom they could purchase fresh steeds, or
obtain assistance in carrying their bales.
"He looks worn out and ill," said the kind-hearted factor. "Come in to
my house, and we will have him seen to. A comfortable bed and a quiet
night's rest will, I hope, restore him; and you, friend, will, I
suspect, be glad to get that heavy pack off your shoulders."
"The boy has not been much accustomed to beds or houses, and the change
may, as you say, do him good," observed Michael. "But my old sinews are
too tough to feel the weight of this pack, heavy as it is, I'll allow.
However, for the boy's sake, I'll accept your hospitality; and, if
you'll look after him till he is recovered, the best peltries I have
shall be at your service without any other payment."
"Nay, nay, friend; I come frae the Hielands, and have not so far
forgotten the customs of the old country as to receive payment for
entertaining a guest, and as such your son is welcome. However, come
in, and get rid of your packs; and to-morrow, when you have rested, we
will examine their contents and calculate their value."
Poor Laurence tottered on, but scarcely had he reached the entrance of
the house than he sank to the ground. His pack was quickly taken off,
and kindly hands lifted him to a room, where he was undressed and put to
bed--a luxury he had not, as his father had said, for many years
enjoyed. Restoratives were applied; but kind Mrs Ramsay and those of
her household who watched him, as they observed his pale cheeks and
slowly-drawn breath, feared that nature was too far exhausted by the
fatigue he had undergone to recover. The old man's alarm and grief,
when he heard of the dangerous state of his son, was excessive. Kind
Mrs Ramsay did her best to console him, and her young daughter, a
fair-haired, blue-eyed little girl, Jeanie, climbed up on his knee, and
stroked his rough hair, as he hung down his head, utterly overcome.
"We will pray to our merciful Father in heaven to take care of the young
boy, and to make him strong and well again," she whispered. "You know
that God hears our prayers; and oh, how good and kind He is, to let us
speak to Him, and to do what we ask Him in the name of His dear Son
Jesus Christ."
The old man gazed earnestly at the child for a few seconds, and, a look
of anguish passing over his countenance, he shook his head; and then
turning away from her, he put her gently down, as if he was afraid of
being thus again addressed, and answered, "Thank you, thank you, little
damsel; I hope my boy will get well. It will go pretty nigh to finish
me if he does not," he murmured to himself. "I ought to have known that
his strength was not equal to the task I put upon it. If he dies, men
will say, and justly, that I am his murderer."
The old man partook but sparingly of the abundant repast spread before
him, and declining the luxury of a bed, rolled himself up in a blanket,
and took his post in the hall, near the door of the room where Laurence
had been placed, that he might hear from those who were attending on his
boy how it went with him. At every footstep which passed he started up
and made the same inquiry, and then with a groan lay down again, his
desire to keep on the watch in vain struggling with his fatigue.