The Campbells remained for some time on the shore of the lake watching
the receding _bateaux_ until they turned round the point and were hidden
from their sight, and then they walked back to the house. But few words
were exchanged as they returned, for they felt a sensation of loneliness
from having parted with so many of their own countrymen; not that they
were, with the exception of Captain Sinclair, companions, but that,
accustomed to the sight of the soldiers at their labour, the spot now
appeared depopulated by their departure. Martin, too, and John, were
both absent; the latter had been two days away, and Martin, who had not
yet found time to ascertain where old Malachi Bone had fixed his new
abode, had gone out in search of it, and to mention to him Mr
Campbell's wishes as to John's visits to him, which were becoming more
frequent and more lengthened than Mr Campbell wished them to be.
When they entered the house, they all sat down, and Mr Campbell then
first spoke.
"Well, my dearest wife, here we are at last, left to ourselves and to
our own resources. I am not at all doubtful of our doing well, if we
exert ourselves, as it is our duty to do. I grant that we may have
hardship to combat, difficulties to overcome, occasional
disappointments, and losses to bear up against; but let us recollect how
greatly we have, through Providence, been already assisted and
encouraged, how much help we have received, and how much kindness we
have experienced. Surely we ought to feel most grateful to Heaven for
blessings already vouchsafed to us, and ought to have a firm and lively
faith in Him who has hitherto so kindly watched over us. Let us not
then repine or feel dispirited, but with grateful hearts do our duty
cheerfully in that state of life to which it has pleased Him to call
us."
"I agree with you, my dear husband," replied Mrs Campbell; "nay, I can
say with sincerity, that I am not sorry we are now left to our own
exertions, and that we have an opportunity of proving that we _can_ do
without the assistance of others. Up to the present, our trial has been
nothing; indeed, I can fancy to myself what our trials are to be. Come
they may, but from what quarter I cannot form an idea: should they come,
however, I trust we shall shew our gratitude for the past blessings, and
our faith derived from past deliverances, by a devout submission to
whatever the Almighty may please to try or chasten us with."
"Right, my dear," replied Mr Campbell; "we will hope for the best; we
are as much under His protection here in the wilderness, as we were at
Wexton Hall; we were just as liable to all the ills which flesh is heir
to when we were living in opulence and luxury as we are now in this
log-house; but we are, I thank God, not so liable in our present
position to forget Him who so bountifully provides for us and in His
wisdom ordereth all our ways. Most truly has the poet said, `Sweet are
the uses of adversity.'"
"Well," observed Emma, after a pause, as if to give a more lively turn
to the conversation, "I wonder what my trials are to be! Depend upon
it, the cow will kick down the pail, or the butter won't come!"
"Or you'll get chapped fingers in the winter time, and chilblains on
your feet," continued Mary.
"That will be bad; but Captain Sinclair says that if we don't take care
we shall be frost-bitten and lose the tips of our noses."
"That would be hard upon you, Emma, for you've none to spare," said
Alfred.
"Well, you have, Alfred, so yours ought to go first."
"We must look after one another's noses, they say, as we cannot tell if
our own is in danger; and if we see a white spot upon another's nose, we
must take a bit of snow and rub it well; a little delicate attention
peculiar to this climate."
"I cannot say that I do not know what my trials are to be," said
Alfred--"that is, trials certain; nor can Henry, either. When I look at
the enormous trunks of these trees, which we have to cut down with our
axes, I feel positive that it will be a hard trial before we master
them. Don't you think so, Henry?"
"I have made up my mind to have at least two new skins upon my hands
before the winter comes on," replied Henry; "but felling timber was not
a part of my university education--"
"No," replied Alfred; "Oxford don't teach that. Now, my university
education--"
"Your university education!" cried Emma.
"Yes, mine; I have sailed all over the universe, and that I call a
university education; but here come Martin and John. Why, John has got
a gun on his shoulder! He must have taken it with him when he last
disappeared."
"I suppose that by this time he knows how to use it, Alfred," said Mrs
Campbell.
"Yes, ma'am," replied Martin, who had entered; "he knows well how to use
and how to take care of it and take care of himself. I let him bring it
home on purpose to watch him. He has fired and loaded twice as we came
back, and has killed this wood-chuck," continued Martin, throwing the
dead animal on the floor. "Old Malachi has taught him well, and he has
not forgotten his lessons."
"What animal is that, Martin; is it good to eat?" said Henry.
"Not very good, sir; it's an animal that burrows in the ground, and is
very hurtful in a garden or to the young maize, and we always shoot them
when we meet with them."
"It's a pity that it's not good to eat."
"Oh! you may eat it, sir; I don't say it's not fit to eat, but there are
other things much better."
"That's quite sufficient for me, Martin," said Emma, "I shall not taste
him; at all events not this time, whatever I may have to do by-and-bye."
"I spoke to old Bone, sir, and he says it's all right; that he won't
keep him more than a day without first sending him to you to ask leave."
"That's all I require, Martin."
"They have been out these two days, and had only just come home when I
arrived there. The game was still in the wood."
"I shot a deer," said John.
"You shot a deer, John!" said Alfred; "why, what a useful fellow you
will be by-and-bye."
"Yes, sir; old Malachi told me that the boy had shot a deer, and that he
would bring it here to-morrow himself."
"I'm glad of that, for I wish to speak with him," said Mr Campbell;
"but, John, how came you to take the rifle with you without leave?"
"Can't shoot without a gun," replied John.
"No, you cannot; but the rifle is not yours."
"Give it me, and I'll shoot everything for dinner," replied John.
"I think you had better do so, father," said Henry, in a low voice; "the
temptation will be too strong."
"You are right, Henry," replied Mr Campbell, aside. "Now, John, I will
give you the rifle, if you will promise me to ask leave when you want to
go, and always come back at the time you have promised."
"I'll always tell when I go, if mamma will always let me go, and I'll
always come back when I promise, if I've killed."
"He means, sir, that if he is on the track when his leave is out, that
he must follow it; but as soon as he has either lost his game, or killed
it, he will then come home. That's the feeling of a true hunter, sir,
and you must not baulk it."
"Very true; well then, John, recollect that you promise."
"Martin," said Percival, "when are you to teach me to fire the rifle?"
"Oh, very soon now, sir; but the soldiers are gone, and as soon as you
can hit the mark, you shall go out with Mr Alfred or me."
"And when are we to learn, Mary," said Emma.
"I'll teach you, cousins," said Alfred, "and give a lesson to my
honoured mother."
"Well, we'll all learn," replied Mrs Campbell.
"What's to be done to-morrow, Martin?" said Alfred.
"Why, sir, there are boards enough to make a fishing-punt, and if you
and Mr Henry will help me, I think we shall have one made in two or
three days. The lake is full of fish, and it's a pity not to have some
while the weather is so fine."
"I've plenty of lines in the store-room," said Mr Campbell.
"Master Percival would soon learn to fish by himself," said Martin, "and
then he'll bring as much as Master John."
"Fish!" said John with disdain.
"Yes, fish, Master John," replied Martin; "a good hunter is always a
good fisherman, and don't despise them, for they often give him a meal
when he would otherwise go to sleep with an empty stomach."
"Well, I'll catch fish with pleasure," cried Percival, "only I must
sometimes go out hunting."
"Yes, my dear boy, and we must sometimes go to bed; and I think it is
high time now, as we must all be up to-morrow at daylight."
The next morning, Mary and Emma set off to milk the cows--not, as usual,
attended by some of the young men, for Henry and Alfred were busy, and
Captain Sinclair was gone. As they crossed the bridge, Mary observed to
her sister, "No more gentlemen to attend us lady milkmaids, Emma."
"No," replied Emma; "our avocation is losing all its charms, and a
pleasure now almost settles down to a duty."
"Alfred and Henry are with Martin about the fishing-boat," observed
Mary.
"Yes," replied Emma; "but I fancy, Mary, you were thinking more of
Captain Sinclair than of your cousins."
"That is very true, Emma; I was thinking of him," replied Mary, gravely.
"You don't know how I feel his absence."
"I can imagine it, though, my dearest Mary. Shall we soon see him
again?"
"I do not know; but I think not for three or four weeks, for certain.
All that can be spared from the fort are gone haymaking, and if he is
one of the officers sent with the men, of course he will be absent, and
if he is left in the fort, he will be obliged to remain there; so there
is no chance of seeing him until the haymaking is over."
"Where is it that they go to make hay, Mary?"
"You know they have only a sufficiency of pasture round the fort for the
cattle during the summer, so they go along by the borders of the lake
and islands, where they know there are patches of clear land, cut the
grass down, make the hay, and collect it all in the _bateaux_, and carry
it to the fort to be stacked for the winter. This prairie was their
best help, but now they have lost it."
"But Colonel Forster has promised papa sufficient hay for the cows for
this winter; indeed, we could not have fed them unless he had done so.
Depend upon it, Captain Sinclair will bring the hay round, and then we
shall see him again, Mary; but we must walk after our own cows now. No
one to drive them for us. If Alfred had any manners he might have
come."
"And why not Henry, Emma?" said Mary, with a smile.
"Oh! I don't know; Alfred came into my thoughts first."
"I believe that really was the case," replied Mary. "Now I'm even with
you; so go along and milk your cows."
"It's all very well, miss," replied Emma, laughing; "but wait till I
have learnt to fire my rifle, and then you'll be more cautious of what
you say."
On their return home, they found the old hunter with a fine buck lying
before him. Mr Campbell was out with the boys and Martin, who wished
his opinion as to the size of the punt.
"How do you do, Mr Bone?" said Mary. "Did John shoot that deer?"
"Yes; and shot it as well as an old hunter, and the creature can hardly
lift the gun to his shoulder. Which of you is named Mary?"
"I am," said Mary.
"Then I've something for you," said old Malachi, pulling from out of his
vest a small parcel, wrapped up in thin bark, and, handing it to her;
"it's a present from the Strawberry."
Mary opened the bark, and found inside of it a pair of mocassins, very
prettily worked in stained porcupines' quills.
"Oh! how beautiful, and how kind of her! Tell her that I thank her, and
love her very much. Will you?"
"Yes; I'll tell her. Where's the boy?"
"Who, John? I think he's gone up the stream to take some trout; he'll
be back to breakfast, and that's just ready. Come, Emma, we must go in
with the milk."
Mr Campbell and those who were with him soon returned.
Malachi Bone then stated that he had brought the buck killed by John;
and that, if it suited, he would carry back with him a keg of gunpowder
and some lead; that he wished Mr Campbell to calculate what he
considered due to him for the property, and let him take it out in
goods, as he required them.
"Why don't you name your own price, Malachi?" said Mr Campbell.
"How can I name a price? It was given to me and cost nothing. I leave
it all to you and Martin Super, as I said before."
"You shew great confidence in me, I must say. Well Bone, I will not
cheat you; but I am afraid you will be a long while before you are paid,
if you only take it out in goods from my store-house."
"All the better, master; they will last till I die, and then what's left
will do for the boy here," replied the old hunter, putting his hand upon
John's head.
"Bone," said Mr Campbell, "I have no objection to the boy going with
you occasionally; but I cannot permit him to be always away. I want him
to come home on the day after he has been to see you."
"Well, that's not reasonable, master. We go out after the game; who
knows where we may find it, how long we may look for it, and how far it
may lead us? Must we give up the chase when close upon it, because
time's up? That'll never do. I want to make the boy a hunter, and he
must learn to sleep out and do everything else as concerns a hunter to
do. You must let him be with me longer, and, if you please, when he
comes back keep him longer; but if you wish him to be a man, the more he
stays with me the better. He shall know all the Indian craft, I promise
you, and the winter after this he shall take beavers and bring you the
skins."
"I think, sir," observed Martin, "it's all in reason, what the old man
says."
"And so do I," said Alfred; "after all, it's only sending John to
school. Let him go, father, and have him home for the holidays."
"I'll always come to you, when I can," said John.
"I am more satisfied at John's saying that than you might imagine," said
Mrs Campbell; "John is an honest boy, and does not say what he does not
mean."
"Well, my dear, if you have no objection, I'm sure I will not raise any
more."
"I think I shall gain more by John's affection than by compulsion, my
dear husband. He says he will always come when he can, and I believe
him; I have, therefore, no objection to let him stay with Malachi Bone,
at all events, for a week or so at a time."
"But his education, my dear."
"He is certain to learn nothing now that this fever for the woods, if I
may so call it, is upon him. He will, perhaps, be more teachable a year
or two hence. You must be aware that we have no common disposition to
deal with in that child; and however my maternal feelings may oppose my
judgment, it is still strong enough to make me feel that my decision is
for his benefit. We must not here put the value upon a finished
education which we used to do. Let us give him every advantage which
the peculiarity of his position will allow us to do; but we are now in
the woods, to a certain degree returned to a state of nature, and the
first and most important knowledge is to learn to gain our livelihoods."
"Well, my dear, I think you are correct in your views on the subject,
and therefore, John, you may go to school with Malachi Bone; come to see
us when you can, and I expect you to turn out the Nimrod of the west."
Old Malachi stared at the conclusion of this speech; Alfred observed his
surprise, and burst into a fit of laughter. He then said, "The English
of all that is, Malachi, that my brother John has my father's leave to
go with you, and you're to make a man of him."
"He who made him must make a man of him," replied Bone: "I can only make
him a good hunter, and that I will, if he and I are spared. Now,
master, if Martin will give me the powder and lead, I'll be off again.
Is the boy to go?"
"Yes, if you desire it," replied Mrs Campbell; "come, John, and wish me
good-bye, and remember your promise." John bade farewell to the whole
party with all due decorum, and then trotted off after his schoolmaster.