It is not necessary to say that there was joy--powerful, inexpressible--
within the wooden walls of Fort Enterprise on that New Year's morning,
and a New Year's hymn of praise welled up continually from the glad
mother's heart, finding expression sometimes in her voice, but oftener
in her eyes, as she gazed upon the faces of her dear ones, the lost and
found.
The flag at Fort Enterprise, which had not flaunted its red field from
the flagstaff since the sad day--that day twelve months exactly--when
the children were lost, once more waved gaily in the frosty air, and
glowed in the beams of the wintry sun. The sound of joyful revelry,
which had not been heard within the walls of the Fort for a long, long
year, once again burst forth with such energy that one might have been
led to suppose its being pent up so long had intensified its power.
The huge fireplace roared, and blazed, and crackled, with a log so
massive that no other Yule log in the known world could have held a
candle to it; and in, on, and around that fire were pots, pans, and
goblets innumerable, all of which hissed, and spluttered, and steamed at
Larry O'Dowd, as if with glee at the sight of his honest face once again
presiding over his own peculiar domain. And the parlour of Fort
Enterprise--that parlour which we have mentioned as being Robin's
dining-room and drawing-room, besides being his bedroom and his
kitchen--was converted into a leafy bower by means of pine branches and
festooned evergreens, and laid out for a feast the like of which had not
been seen there for many a day, and which was transcendently more
magnificent than that memorable New Year's day dinner which had been
cooked, but not eaten, just three hundred and sixty-five days before.
In short, everything in and about Fort Enterprise bore evidence that its
inmates meant to rejoice and make merry on that first day of a new year,
as it was meet they should do under such favourable circumstances.
Jeff Gore had shot a deer not many days before, and one of its fat
haunches was to be the great dish of the feast; but Robin said that it
was not enough: so, after the first congratulations were over, he and
Walter, and Slugs, and Black Swan, set off into the forest, and ere long
returned with several brace of grouse, and a few rabbits. Roy, with a
very sly look, had asked leave to go and have a walk on snow-shoes in
the woods with Nelly before dinner, but his father threatened to lock
him up in the cellar, so he consented to remain at home for that day and
assist his mother.
"Now, Nelly, you and Roy will come help me to prepare the feast," said
Mrs Gore, whose eyes were swollen with joyful weeping till they looked
like a couple of inflamed oysters; "not that there's much to do, for,
now that Larry is come back, we'll leave everything to him except the
pl-plum--poo--poo--ding--oh! _my_ darling!"
Here Mrs Gore broke down for the fifteenth time, and, catching Nelly to
her bosom, hugged her.
"Darling mother!" sighed Nelly.
"Och! but it's a sight good for sore eyes, anyhow," exclaimed Larry,
looking up from his occupation among the steaming pots and pans.
Wapaw, who was the only other member of the party who chose to remain in
the house during the forenoon of that day, sat smoking his pipe in the
chimney corner, and regarded the whole scene with that look of stoical
solemnity which is peculiar to North American Indians.
"Come, I say, this'll never do, mother," cried Roy, going to the
flour-barrel which stood in a corner. "If we're to help you wi' that
'ere poodin', let's have at it at once."
Thus admonished, Mrs Gore and her recovered progeny set to work and
fabricated a plum-pudding, which was nearly as hard, almost as heavy as,
and much larger than a sixty-four pound cannon ball. It would have
killed with indigestion half a regiment of artillery, but it could not
affect the hardened frames of these men of the backwoods!
In course of time the board was spread, the viands smoked upon it, and
the united party set to work. Mrs Gore sat at the head of the table,
with Nelly on one side and Roy on the other. Robin sat at the foot,
supported by the White Swan on his right, and Wapaw on his left. Ranged
between these were Walter, Slugs, the Black Swan, Jeff Gore, Obadiah
Stiff, the two other strangers who came with Jeff, and Larry O'Dowd--for
Larry acted the part of cook only, and did not pretend to "wait." After
he had placed the viands on the table, he sat down with the rest. These
backwoodsmen ignored waiters. They passed their plates from hand to
hand, and when anything was wanted by any one he rose to fetch it
himself.
After the plates were cleared away, the tea-kettle was put on the table.
In some parts of the backwoods spirits are (fortunately) so difficult
to procure, that hunters and trappers live for many months without
tasting a drop, and get into the habit of doing entirely without
intoxicating drink of any kind. Robin had no spirits except animal
spirits, but he had plenty of tea. When it was poured out into huge
cups, which might have been styled small slop-basins, and sweetened and
passed round, Robin applied his knuckles to the table to command
silence.
"Friends," said he, "I niver wos much o' a speechifier, but I could
always manage to blurt out my meanin' somehow. Wot I've got to say to
you this day is, I'm thankful to the Almighty for givin' me back my
childer, an' I'm right glad to see ye all under my roof this Noo Year's
day, and so's the wife, _I_ know--ain't ye, Molly, my dear?"
To this appeal Mrs G replied with a hysterical ye-es, and an
application of her apron to the inflamed oysters. Robin continued--
"Well, I'm sorry there ain't nothin' stronger in the fort to give 'ee
than tea, but for my part I find it strong enough to keep up my spirits,
an' yer all heartily welcome to swig buckets-full o' that. There is an
old fiddle in the store. If any o' ye can scrape a tune, we'll have a
dance. If not, why we'll sing and be jolly."
This speech was followed up by another from Obadiah Stiff, who, with a
countenance of the deepest solemnity, requested permission to make a few
brief observations.
"Friends," said he, turning the quid of tobacco which usually graced his
right cheek into his left, "it's not every day a man's got a chance o'--
o' wot I was a-goin' to obsarve is, that men who are so much indebted to
their much-respected host as--as (Nelly happened to sneeze at this
point, and distracted Stiff's attention) as--yes, I guess we ha'nt often
got the chance to chase the redskins, and--and--. In short, without
makin' an onnecessairy phrase about it--I'm happy to say that _I_ can
play the fiddle, so here's luck."
Mr Stiff sat down abruptly and drained his cup at a draught.
"Pr'aps," said Larry, with a twinkle in his eye, "Mister Stiff would
favour the company wi' a song before we commence to cut capers."
"Hear, hear!" from Walter.
"Hurrah!" from Roy.
Mr Stiff cleared his throat and began at once. The tune was so
dolorous, and the voice so unmusical, that in any other circumstances it
would have been intolerable, but there were lines in it touching upon
"good fellowship," which partially redeemed it, and in the last verse
there was reference made to "home," and "absent friends," which rendered
it a complete success, insomuch that it was concluded amid rapturous
cheering, so true is it, as Walter observed, that, "one touch of nature
covers a multitude of sins!"
"Let's drink to absent friends an' owld Ireland," cried Larry, filling
his cup and pushing the kettle round.
This was drunk with enthusiasm and was followed by a succession of
toasts and songs, which were drunk and sung not at the table, but round
the fire, to which the party withdrew in order to enjoy their pipes more
thoroughly. Then followed a number of anecdotes of stories--some true,
some doubtful, and some fabricated--which were listened to with deep
interest, not only by Roy and Nelly, but by the whole party, including
the Indians, who listened intently, with faces like owls, although they
did not understand a word that was said.
Many of these stories were so touching that poor Mrs Gore's eyes became
more inflamed and more oyster-like than ever. Nelly, too, became
sympathetic, and her eyes were similarly affected.
When the evening was pretty well advanced, the violin was sent for and
tuned, and Stiff turned out to be a very fair player of Scotch reels; so
the party laid aside their pipes, cleared the floor, and began to dance.
It was rough but hearty dancing. Each dancer composed his own steps on
the spur of the moment, but executed them with a degree of precision and
violence that would have caused civilised dancing masters to blush with
shame and envy. Mrs Gore and Nelly danced too, weeping the while with
joy, and so did the White Swan, but her performances were peculiar. She
danced with a slowness of manner and a rigidity of person that are
utterly indescribable. She looked as if all her joints had become
inflexible, except those of her knees, and her arms hung straight down
at her sides, while she pendulated about the floor and gazed at the
rafters in deep solemnity.
How they did keep it up, to be sure! Men of the backwoods find it no
easy matter to fatigue their muscles or exhaust their spirits, so they
danced all night, and a considerable portion of next morning too. Long
before they gave in, however, the females were obliged to retire. They
lay down on their rude couches without taking the trouble to undress,
and in a few moments after were sound asleep--Nelly locked in her
mother's arms, with their two cheeks touching, their dishevelled hair
mingling, and a few tears welling from their inflamed eyes, and mixing
as they flowed slowly down their united noses. Sleeping thus, the
mother dreamed of home, and Nelly dreamed of Silver Lake.
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Reader, our tale is told. We have not space to tell of what befell
Robin Gore and his family in after life, but we may remark, in
conclusion, that although Robin stoutly refused to go back to
civilisation, in the course of a few years civilisation considerately
advanced to him, and the wild region, which was once a dense forest
around Fort Enterprise, finally became (to Mrs Gore's inexpressible
joy) a flourishing settlement, in which were heard the sounds of human
industry, and the tinkle of the Sabbath bell.