As soon as ever Margaret could get them a cup of tea and a snack to
eat, David and Andy were to be off upon their voyage to the post. They
were good boatmen and sailors, both of them, for down on The Labrador
every lad learns the art of sailing early. Often enough they had made
the journey to the post in the small boat. But now they were to be
entrusted with the big boat, and with the season’s catch of fish as
cargo, and they were to purchase the winter’s supplies for the house.
This was an important mission indeed.
David, as skipper of the big boat, and Andy as crew, therefore felt a
vast deal of responsibility, when Thomas called them to his bedside
and gave David the final instructions. They were to bring back with
them flour, pork, tea and molasses for the house, and woolen duffle,
kersey and moleskin cloth for clothing, besides many little odds and
ends to be purchased at the store. Then there were verbal messages to
be delivered to Mr. MacCreary, the factor, and to Zeke Hodge, the post
servant.
“And tell Mr. MacCreary I may be askin’ he for more debt than I been
askin’ for many a year,” added Thomas with a tinge of regret, for it
had been his pride to avoid debt. “But tell he I’ll pay un. I’ll pay
un all when my leg is mended and I gets about again.”
“I’ll tell he, sir,” said David.
“’Twouldn’t be so bad, now, if you had two more years on your
shoulders, Davy, lad,” Thomas continued, a little wistfully. “You
could tend my trail then, and we might get th’ money t’ send Jamie for
the cure.”
“I’m ’most sixteen!” David boasted. “I could tend un now. I _knows_ I
could, an’ you’d let me try un.”
“You’re too young yet, lad,” Thomas objected. “You’re too young to be
alone up there in th’ bush, I couldn’t rest easy with you up there
alone.”
“I could try un, _what_ever,” persisted David, eagerly.
“I’m not sayin’ you couldn’t tend th’ traps, lad,” assured Thomas,
with pride. “You’d tend un, and not slight un. But a lad o’ your age
is too young t’ be reasonable always. You’d take risks on nasty days,
and run dangers. No,” he added decidedly, “I couldn’t think o’ lettin’
you go alone. If anything were to happen to you I never could rest
easy again.”
David was plainly disappointed, for he felt the reliance and
self-confidence of youth, and the romance and adventure of a winter’s
isolation on the far-off trail appealed to him. And in his heart
perhaps he resented what he deemed his father’s lack of confidence in
him as a woodsman. It is the way of boys the world over to place their
judgment sometimes above that of their elders.
The two lads ate their snack and drank their tea hurriedly, for the
day was none too long, and then, with Doctor Joe to accompany them to
the jetty and see them off with a cheery farewell, they loosed the
boat from her moorings and David, with a long sculling oar, worked her
down through The Jug and beyond the Point, where her sails caught the
wind. Then David put away the sculling oar, shipped the rudder, and
took the tiller, and turning to Andy he said:
“Since Pop broke his leg I been thinking’ wonderful hard, Andy.”
“What you been thinkin’, Davy?” asked Andy.
“I been thinkin’ I’ve got t’ hunt now, _what_ever,” announced David.
“I’m goin’ t’ ask Pop again t’ let me hunt his trail this winter. He
were sayin’ I can’t, but somebody _must_ hunt un, and I’m th’ only one
t’ do it. We got t’ have fur t’ pay for th’ cure o’ Jamie’s eyes, and
Pop can’t hunt, and they’s no way t’ get un if I don’t hunt. If we
don’t get un, Jimmie’ll go blind, and we _must_ get un, _what_ever.
You’ll have t’ do my work about home and hunt th’ meat and feed th’
dogs, and get th’ wood.”
“Pop won’t let you go t’ Seal Lake alone!” exclaimed Andy, startled by
David’s apparent revolt against his father’s decision. “He said you
couldn’t!”
“Yes he will. You’ll see,” declared David. “I has a plan, an’ Pop’ll
let me go, I’m thinkin’, when he hears un. And ’tis th’ only chance t’
save Jamie from goin’ blind. I can’t make th’ hunt Pop would, but I’ll
do my best, and anyway I’m ’most a man. I’ll soon be sixteen!”
David, standing in the stern of the boat, drew himself to his full
height and squared his shoulders, and indeed he was a stalwart lad,
and Andy was proud of his big brother.
“You _is_ fine and strong!” said Andy in admiration.
“Aye, that I be,” admitted David with no little pride, “and you’re
fine and strong, too, for your age. You can handle th’ dogs and ’tend
th’ traps about home, and look after things whilst I’m away, and we’ll
show Pop and Doctor Joe what _we_ can do.”
“And Pop lets you go!” said Andy. “But I’m wonderful afraid, now, he
won’t let you go.”
“But I has a plan. _You’ll_ see,” said David with assurance.
“What’s your plan, now?” asked Andy.
“’Tis a plan come t’ me while Doctor Joe were settin’ Pop’s leg,” said
David, “but I weren’t tellin’ he about un when he speaks of my goin’.
I wanted t’ find out first. Indian Jake is back in th’ Bay, and he’s
wantin’ a place t’ hunt on shares because he can’t buy his own traps.
He’s been away two years, and th’ Company won’t let he have traps on
debt because he’s owin’ so much there already that he didn’t pay
before he goes away. Trowbridge & Gray won’t let he have traps
because he took his fur away two years ago when he were owin’ so much,
and didn’t try t’ clear up any of his debt. Pop’s got plenty o’ traps,
and my plan is t’ have Indian Jake hunt along o’ me on shares.”
“It seems like cheatin’ for Indian Jake t’ take his fur away when he
were owin’ a debt t’ th’ Company,” suggested Andy.
“’Tweren’t honest,” agreed David, “but he’s sayin’ now if he has a
chance he’ll pay his debt. It seems hard for he not t’ have a chance,
and by huntin’ on shares along o’ me ’twill give he a chance, and
’twill help us. Pop will have a third o’ Indian Jake’s hunt, and he’s
’most as good a hunter as Pop. Then I’ll have some one t’ hunt with,
and I’ll be safe, and Pop won’t mind my goin’. All o’ my hunt and a
third o’ Indian Jake’s, I’m thinkin’, would be ’most as much as Pop’s
would ha’ been if he hadn’t broke his leg. Then Pop and Doctor Joe
will sure have th’ money t’ pay for fixin’ Jamie’s eyes.”
“Oh, I _hopes_ he’ll let you go!” exclaimed Andy. “Th’ plan _is_
fine!”
David’s plan was an ambitious one. Thomas had stated that he would be
quite too young for another two years to endure the hardship and
danger and isolation of the winter fur trails. But if he could arrange
for Indian Jake to accompany him, his father might consent. Jamie’s
eyes were at stake, and that was the vital thing. David felt that no
sacrifice or risk was too great if they could save Jamie from
blindness, and he hoped that his father would, after consideration,
take the same view.
It is rare that even an old, experienced trapper, enters the far
Labrador wilderness without a companion, though Thomas, who knew no
danger where he himself was concerned, had usually hunted alone. It is
the custom of trappers to work in pairs, with a central meeting point
where at stated intervals, sometimes once a fortnight and sometimes at
the end of each week, they may enjoy each other’s society for a day or
two, and, if necessary, lend each other assistance.
David was aware, however, that at this late season the trappers had
already gone to their trails, or had already completed their
arrangements for the winter. Therefore he had decided upon making a
bargain, if possible with Indian Jake, the only hunter in the Bay, so
far as he knew, who had no trail to hunt. It was only under these
circumstances that he suggested the half breed as his hunting
companion, for he was a man whom no one trusted. This general lack of
confidence in Indian Jake might lead his father to refuse to grant his
request, but he was determined to do his utmost to induce him to grant
it.
Hugely interested, and more or less excited with their project, the
boys talked and schemed, until at length the line of whitewashed
buildings of the Hudson’s Bay Company’s post came into view.
“There’s the Post!” exclaimed David. “I hope Indian Jake is stoppin’
there yet.”
“’Twill be fine, now, if he is, and if he’ll go, and Pop lets he have
th’ trail t’ hunt along with you. The Indian tents are all gone,” said
Andy, indicating a long stretch of beach to the eastward of the post
which had been occupied by Indian camps during the summer.
“Yes,” said David, “they mostly goes th’ middle of August t’ hunt deer
before th’ fur hunt begins. We won’t see them again till the break-up
next spring, _what_ever.”
They were silent for a little, and then David, pointing to the rolling
wilderness to the westward remarked:
“It looks fine t’ me out there! And think o’ th’ martens and foxes and
lynx! It’s full o’ fur, Andy, waitin’ t’ be trapped, and if Pop lets
me go, I can trap _some_ of un, _what_ever!”
“There’s Indian Jake! See him? The lanky one!” exclaimed Andy, as the
boat drew near the wharf and four men came out of one of the buildings
and down the wharf to meet them.
“Sure ’tis he! And there’s Uncle Ben Rudder and Hiram Muggs, along
with Zeke Hodge! They must be gettin’ their winter outfit. I’m
wonderful glad Indian Jake’s here!” exclaimed David.
Zeke Hodge, the Company’s servant, with the assistance of the three,
quickly unloaded the boat.
“Where’s your pop? Makin’ ready for th’ winter huntin’?” asked Zeke,
as the boys came ashore after discharging the cargo and making the
boat fast.
“He broke his leg this mornin’ whilst we were loadin’ th’ boat,” said
David. “Doctor Joe was there and fixed un, but Pop won’t be out o’ bed
for five or six weeks, _what_ever, and won’t be strong to go t’ th’
huntin’ th’ whole winter.”
“Good gracious! Good gracious! Dear eyes!” exclaimed Uncle Ben Rudder,
a grizzled, stockily-built old trapper of sixty years or thereabouts.
“Broke his leg! Tom Angus went, now, and broke his leg, did you say?”
“Aye, Uncle Ben, broke un clear off, but she’s fixed good and proper,
and Doctor Joe says she’ll heal fine,” David explained.
Zeke, and Hiram Muggs and Indian Jake all declared it was “too bad,
and a sore misfortune, just at th’ beginnin’ o’ th’ huntin’ season,”
and Uncle Ben exclaimed:
“Tom Angus broke his leg! Dear eyes! But Doctor Joe’ll fix un! Good
gracious, yes! He’ll fix un! He’s a wonderful man, now, is Doctor
Joe!”
“Too bad he can’t hunt,” remarked Indian Jake. “His trail up on Seal
Lake is one o’ th’ best in th’ country. Too bad t’ let it stand idle.”
“Hum-m-m!” grunted Uncle Ben.
“’Tis a fine trail,” agreed David, “and Pop makes fine hunts on it.”
“He might let some one hunt it on shares?” suggested Indian Jake.
“Tom Angus won’t need much help in decidin’ whether he wants his trail
hunted on shares or no,” Uncle Ben broke in with some asperity. “Tom
Angus is a great man t’ decide for himself what he’s wantin’, and what
he’s not wantin’. Good gracious! Tom Angus can decide for himself!”
With this outburst Uncle Ben followed Zeke and Hiram into Zeke’s
cabin, in response to Zeke’s suggestion that “supper was ’most ready
and they might as well go in,” but Indian Jake tarried behind with
David and Andy.
Indian Jake, the half-breed, was not a native of the Bay. He had
appeared here first some five years before, coming from “somewhere
south,” and after trapping in the vicinity for three seasons,
disappeared. During this time, as David had explained to Andy, he had
contracted a debt, and when he left he took with him furs which should
rightfully have been used in discharging it. Now after two years he
had returned, to remain permanently, as he stated, in the Bay.
He was a tall, muscular fellow, with the dark red skin, straight black
hair and swinging stride of the Indian. A pair of keen, restless black
eyes and a beaked nose, suggested the hawk. His features, however,
were not those of an Indian, and plainly indicated a mixed ancestry.
“I’d like t’ hunt your father’s trail on shares,” suggested Indian
Jake, when he was alone with David and Andy.
“Pop’s got two trails up at Seal Lake,” said David. “I knows his old
trail, and I were thinkin’ t’ hunt she myself if Pop lets me, and I’m
not doubtin’ he would if some one were along with me huntin’ th’ new
trail. He’s got all th’ traps for th’ new trail. I were goin’ t’ ask
you t’ speak to he about un, Jake.”
“I’d like t’ hunt with ye, Davy. I think we’d get along fine,” said
Indian Jake, smiling down ingratiatingly at David, and Indian Jake had
a bland and pleasant smile when he chose, in spite of his beaked nose
and hawk’s eyes.
And so it came about that Indian Jake went to The Jug the next day
with David and Andy. And because there was such urgent need of money,
and also because David pleaded so hard, and Indian Jake was so good a
trapper--for no one doubted his ability--it was decided that not only
David, but Andy also, should go with Indian Jake to Seal Lake for the
winter, as we shall presently see.
The boys were pleased beyond measure, for now each felt he was in
truth to take a man’s place and do his part in earnest, and they were
quite sure that the problem of getting the money to pay the expense of
curing Jamie’s eyes was solved. And perhaps, too, they were pleased
with the promise of adventure, for every red-blooded boy loves
adventure; and to be buried in the depths of the great wilderness for
many months, with no other companion than Indian Jake, was adventure
in itself. And, indeed, there was to be plenty of it for both of
them, and of hardships, too.
“Then you’ll be goin’ home with Andy and me tomorrow to ask Pop?”
inquired David expectantly.
“Yes,” said Indian Jake, with undoubted satisfaction. “I’ll go back
with you.”
David could scarce suppress his excitement, but neither he nor Andy
nor Indian Jake himself thought best to refer to the arrangement when,
a moment later, they followed the others into Zeke Hodge’s cabin. Tea
was ready, and they drew up to the table with Zeke and Hiram and Uncle
Ben.
In the center of the clean-scoured, uncovered table was a big,
steaming dish of stewed porcupine and doughboys, and at either end a
plate piled high with huge slices of bread, and when Zeke had asked
the blessing, Mrs. Hodge and Kate, her fifteen-year-old daughter,
poured tea and otherwise served the men while they ate.
“Porcupine! Dear eyes! Porcupine!” exclaimed Uncle Ben, helping
himself generously. “Where’d ye get un, Zeke? They’re wonderful scarce
these days. _Wonderful_ scarce! I ain’t seen one since last spring.”
“Right back here in th’ green-woods,” said Zeke. “I heard th’ dogs
yelpin’ this mornin’; and I goes t’ see what ’tis all about. There sat
th’ porcupine hunched up, and th’ old dogs in a circle around he,
doin’ th’ yelpin’, and two of th’ young dogs pawin’ at their noses and
whinin’, with their mouths full o’ quills.”
“Huh-huh,” chuckled Uncle Ben. “Th’ old uns knew enough t’ keep away
from danger. They’d been there theirselves, or seen them that had, and
th’ young dogs had t’ get hurt t’ learn enough t’ leave dangerous
things alone.”
“It took me an hour t’ pull th’ quills out o’ their noses and mouths
with a pair of pincers,” said Zeke. “They’ll know enough t’ give
porcupines room after this.”
“Some folks is like porcupines,” observed Uncle Ben, glancing at
Indian Jake, who seemed quite unconscious of the thrust. “It’s best
not t’ have any dealin’s with un.”
David and Andy were too full of their plans, and too hungry, and well
occupied with the toothsome dish, to heed Uncle Ben’s suggestion. And
though many times that evening, while the men sat smoking their pipes
and talking about this and that, Uncle Ben made blunt and cutting
remarks that were aimed at Indian Jake’s character and honesty, the
half-breed kept his temper and silence, with a remarkable display of
self-control. Once or twice, to be sure, a sneering smile stole upon
his face. It might have been that he held the esteem of the others in
fine contempt, or possibly he awaited a better opportunity for
accounting and revenge.
But so far as David and Andy were concerned, they were thinking only
of Indian Jake’s ability as a trapper, and were quite transported by
the belief that they had already solved the problems of the future.
With Indian Jake’s help they were well satisfied the money would be
earned to pay for Jamie’s cure. It only remained to gain their
father’s consent to David’s plan. They were optimists. They believed
that what they wished to be, would be, if they did their best to make
their wishes realized. Only experience can teach that the best laid
plans sometimes fail.
V