At this point in our tale we might profitably turn aside for a little to
dilate upon the interesting--not to say exciting--proceedings of our
explorers and the hunter's family during the few days spent in the
island home and its neighbourhood, were it not that incidents of a more
stirring and important nature claim our attention.
We might, if time and space permitted, tell how they all went fishing in
the lake with Oliver's cod-hooks, which were, of course, greatly
superior to the bone-hooks which Hendrick had been accustomed to
manufacture; how they went salmon-spearing by torchlight in a
neighbouring stream, in which operation Oliver soon became as expert as
his entertainers, and even more enthusiastic, insomuch that he several
times met what seemed to be his ordinary fate--a ducking in the water;
how, in consequence, he caught a bad cold, as well as fish, and was
compelled to lie up and be nursed for several days, during which time of
forced inaction he learned to appreciate the excellent nursing qualities
of Trueheart and her daughter Goodred. He also learned to estimate at
its true value the yelling power of the family baby, whose will was iron
and whose lungs were leather, besides being inflated by the fresh,
wholesome air of the grand wilderness. We might tell of the short but
thrilling expeditions undertaken by the men and boys in pursuit of
bears, otters, beaver, and deer, in which Hendrick displayed the
certainty of his deadly aim, and Master Trench the uncertainty of his
dreadful shooting, despite all his former "practice." We might relate
the interesting stories, anecdotes, and narratives with which the
explorers and the hunter sought to beguile the pleasant periods that
used to follow supper and precede repose, and describe the tremendous
energy of Paul Burns in springing to the rescue of the self-willed baby
when it fell into the fire, and the cool courage of Oliver Trench in
succouring the same baby when it tumbled into the water. All this we
might dilate on, and a great deal more--such as the great friendship
struck up between Oscar and Oliver, and the intense interest expressed
by Hendrick on finding that his friend Paul possessed a manuscript copy
of the Gospel of John, and the frequent perusals of that Gospel over the
camp-fire, and the discussions that followed on the great subjects of
man's duty, the soul's destiny, and the love of God, as shown in and by
Jesus Christ--but over all this we must unwillingly draw a curtain and
leave it to the courteous reader's imagination, while we pass on to
subjects which bear more directly on the issues of our tale.
One day, some time after leaving Hendrick's camp on the great lake,
Captain Trench and his son, with Paul Burns and the hunter, halted to
rest on the summit of a cliff from which they could obtain a magnificent
view of the country lying beyond.
They had by that time passed over the rich grassland with its park-like
plains, its lakes and streams and belts of woodland, and had entered
upon that mountainous region which lies towards the southwesterly
portion of the island.
"Hendrick," said Paul, as he gazed with admiration on the wild scene
before him, "I have now seen enough to know that this land is most
suitable for the abode of man. The soil is admirable; the woods contain
magnificent timber; fish, flesh, and fowl are plentiful; coal exists in,
I should think, extensive fields, while there are indications in many
places of great mineral wealth, especially copper. Besides this, the
land, you tell me, is pierced by innumerable bays, inlets, fords, and
natural harbours; and, to crown all, the climate, except on some parts
of the coast, is exceedingly good. Now it seems to me that these facts
ought to be made known in England, and that our King should not only
take possession, but should send out colonists to settle all over this
island and develop its resources. If permitted, it will be my part to
finish this exploration and carry home the news."
Hendrick did not reply for a few minutes, then a faint sigh escaped him
as he replied--
"No doubt what you say is just, and I doubt not that these plains and
hills will one day resound with the activities of civilised life: the
plough will obliterate the deer-tracks, the axe will lay low the
forests, and the lowing of cattle and the bark of dogs will replace the
trumpeting of the wild-goose and the cry of plover; but when the change
begins to come, I will strike my tent and go to the great unknown lands
of the west, for I cannot bear the clatter and the strife of men."
Paul was about to reply, when an arrow whizzed through the air, pierced
the sleeve of his coat, scratched his left arm slightly as it passed,
and quivered in a tree behind them.
Leaping up, each member of the party sprang for shelter behind a
neighbouring tree.
At the same moment there arose a terrible cry, as of men rushing to
attack each other. The form of the ground prevented our travellers from
seeing the combatants, though the sound of their strife proved them to
be close at hand. Suddenly Hendrick left the tree behind which he had
taken shelter, and, running towards a precipitous bank or cliff, called
to his companions to follow. They obeyed at once.
"I fear," he said, as Paul ran up alongside of him, "that I know the
meaning of this. Some of the voices sound familiar to me. That arrow
was not, I think, discharged at us. We shall be wanted here. May I
count on you?"
"You may," said Paul. "I cannot doubt that your cause must be a just
one."
"I'm with you!" exclaimed Master Trench, plucking the hatchet from his
son's belt--a weapon that the youngster could well spare, as the
bludgeon and the bow were still left to him.
Hendrick had spoken in quick, sharp tones, for he was evidently much
excited. On reaching the crest of a rising ground he looked cautiously
over it.
"As I thought!" he said; "my wife's relations are attacked by savages
from Labrador. Come, follow me!"
He ran swiftly round the base of the rising ground, not giving his
comrades time even to see the combatants to whom he referred.
Suddenly they came in full sight of perhaps the most terrible sight that
our fallen world can present--two bands of armed men, mad with rage,
engaged in the fiendish work of butchering each other.
In the immediate foreground two powerful Indians were struggling each to
plant a short spear in the other's heart. One, who was shorter than the
other but equally powerful, was making a desperate effort to wrench his
right hand from his foe's grasp, and another foe was on the point of
stabbing the short man in the back, when the white men appeared on the
scene. Paul, the captain, and Oliver, although ready with arrow and
bolt hesitated, for they knew not which to regard as foes, and which as
friends. No such difficulty, however, interfered with Hendrick, who
sent an arrow into the brain of the savage who meant to strike from
behind. At the same instant the short warrior succeeded in his effort;
his spear flashed upwards, and the next moment his tall enemy fell to
rise no more.
Hendrick, who seemed to have been transformed into a human tiger, rushed
to the attack with a shout and a display of fury that for a moment
arrested the fight. The short Indian, whose life he had just saved,
bestowed on him and his companions one look of surprise, and joined him
in the rush. Captain Trench, whose combative tendencies were easily
aroused, joined them with a roar which was somewhat intensified by the
fact that he was still a little uncertain as to which was "the enemy."
Oliver relieved his overcharged bosom by an involuntary shriek or howl,
that rose high and shrill above the tumult, as he followed suit,
whirling his bludgeon with some difficulty round his head.
The combined effect of all this was to strike terror into the enemy who,
turning short round, fled precipitately, and were followed for a
considerable distance by some of the victorious Indians.
On returning from the pursuit, Hendrick introduced the short Indian as
his wife's cousin, who, with a party of hunters, had been out for a
supply of fresh meat when attacked by the Labrador savages.
"It is an old feud," remarked Hendrick, as he and Paul sat a little
apart that evening, while their comrades assisted the Indians to prepare
supper; "an old feud. Oh! war--war! There is no place of rest from it,
I fear, in this world."
The hunter's tone was so sad that Paul looked at him inquiringly.
"You are surprised," said his companion, "that I should long thus for
escape from the warring passions of men, but if you knew what reason I
have for hating war, you would not wonder. Listen! Many years ago I
went with my wife and child to visit a kinsman in the Scottish
Highlands. I need scarcely tell you that it was not my present wife and
child. She was young, fair, faultless in person and disposition. Our
little daughter resembled her in all respects. There chanced to be a
miserable feud existing between my relative and a neighbouring chief.
It originated in some disputed boundary, and always smouldered, like a
subdued volcano, but occasionally broke forth in open warfare. At the
time of my visit my kinsman, who was a bachelor, had gone to transact
some business at a town not far distant, leaving a message for me to
follow him as he required my assistance in some family arrangements, and
meant to return home the same night. I went, leaving my wife and child
in the castle. That very night my kinsman's foe--knowing nothing of my
arrival--came to the castle, took the small body of defenders by
surprise, overcame them, and set the place on fire. Fiendish and
revengeful though the marauders were, I believe they would not wantonly
have murdered the helpless ones, had they known of their being in the
place, but they knew it not until too late.
"When we returned that night the castle was a black smoking ruin, and my
wife and little one had perished! Can you wonder that I fled from the
horrible spot; that I left my native land for ever; and that I shudder
at the very thought of strife?"
"Nay, brother, I wonder not," said Paul, in a sympathetic tone; "but I
fear there is no region on the face of this earth where the terrible
war-spirit, or, rather, war-fiend, is not alive."
"Why, the man whose life I took this very day," resumed Hendrick,
clenching his right hand almost fiercely, "has doubtless left a woman at
home who is now a widow, and it may be children, whom I have rendered
fatherless! No rest--no rest anywhere from this constant slaying of our
fellow-men; yet I was forced to do it to save the life of my wife's
kinsman! Oh! is there no deliverance, no hope for this poor world?"
"Hendrick," said Paul, laying his hand impressively on his friend's arm,
"there _is_ deliverance--there _is_ hope. See here."
He pulled out the manuscript Gospel as he spoke, and turning over the
well-thumbed leaves, read the words--
"`Jesus saith... A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one
another... Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe
also in me. In My Father's house are many mansions.' Hendrick, this
same Jesus, who is Immanuel, God with us, has said, `Come unto me, all
ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you _rest_.' `Him
that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.' These latter words are
not here, but they are in other scriptures which I have often heard
read."
"But how shall I know," said the hunter earnestly, "that these words are
true--that they are the words of God?"
For some time Paul made no reply, then suddenly, to the surprise of his
friend, he looked upwards, and, in a low voice, said--
"O Holy Spirit of God, convince my friend that these words are Thine,--
in Jesus' name!"
Then, turning to the hunter, he continued: "Come, let us examine this
writing together."
"Something of this have I heard before," said Hendrick, "and, as I
thirst for light and truth, I will gladly examine it with you."
Need we say that those two earnest men were soon engrossed in the study
of the Word, and that the interruption of the evening meal did not
prevent them from afterwards poring over the manuscript far into the
night by the light of the camp-fire. Hendrick was well able to do so,
for, like Paul, he had received a better education than fell to the lot
of most men in those days.
At first Captain Trench and his son had listened to the conversation and
discussion of the students with much interest and the sturdy
matter-of-fact mariner even ventured to put one or two puzzling
questions to them; but by degrees their interest flagged, and at last
taking example by the Indians, they rolled themselves in deerskin robes
and sought repose.
Continuing their journey next day, they were about to part from their
Indian friends on the mountain ridge, from which a view of the Western
ocean could be obtained, when they observed a band of Indians in the far
distance travelling eastward.
"On the war-path!" suggested Hendrick.
After a prolonged gaze the kinsman of Trueheart came to the same
conclusion, and said he felt sure that they were not from Labrador, but
were evidently men of the Island.
"Can you guess what they are going to do?" asked Hendrick.
The Indian shook his head solemnly. "No, he did not know--he could not
guess, and as they were separated by some miles of valleys, precipices,
and mountain gorges, there was no possibility of finding out."
After some time spent in speculation and guessing as to the intention of
the war party, our explorers, bidding farewell to their red friends,
proceeded on their journey, while the latter diverged to the southward,
and continued their hunt after fresh meat.
If Paul Burns and his friends had known the purpose of the warriors whom
they had just seen, it is probable that they might not have slept quite
as soundly as they did that night under the greenwood trees.