In the beginning Thomas had a decided feeling of uncertainty
concerning Indian Jake, because of Indian Jake’s record of two years
before. The debt that he had left unpaid was for provisions and
clothing which had been advanced him by the Hudson’s Bay Company that
he might subsist during the hunting season, and with the understanding
that he would pay the indebtedness by trading in at the Company’s
store the furs he trapped.
It was a debt of honor, thought Thomas and the other Bay folk, and the
furs, to their way of thinking, belonged rightfully to the Company;
and therefore, in taking them away with him, Indian Jake had actually
been guilty of dishonesty. Indian Jake agreed with Thomas, who stated
his opinion plainly to the half-breed.
“I know the furs were the Company’s,” said Indian Jake, “but I had
reasons for goin’. Now I’ve come back t’ straighten up what I owe. All
I want is a chance, and I can’t pay what I owe if nobody gives me the
chance, and down t’ th’ tradin’ posts they won’t trust me, and nobody
else wants to, unless you do.”
“Well,” said Thomas, after a little consideration, “I’ll do it. ’Tis a
fine place for fur where I traps, and you’ll make a fine hunt.
“But you’ll be huntin’ one trail, and if I let Davy go he’ll be
huntin’ another, and Davy’ll only see you once a week, _what_ever.
’Twill be a wonderful lonely time for Davy between times alone, and he
might have a mishap, for ’tisn’t natural for a young lad t’ be over
careful. I’m not thinkin’ I’ll let he go, Jake. You’ll have t’ hunt
alone. Davy’s too young yet for th’ work.”
“It’s all the same t’ me,” said Indian Jake, “huntin’ alone or with
company.”
“Oh, but, Pop,” pleaded David in deep disappointment. “I’ll be
wonderful careful. I’ll ’bide in th’ tilts when th’ weather’s too
nasty t’ be out. I _wants_ t’ go. I’ll get _some_ fur, _what_ever, and
we needs un all to pay for th’ cure t’ Jamie’s eyes.”
Jamie’s eyes! Thomas looked at Jamie, who was standing at the window,
vainly trying to peer through the ever-present mist, and as he saw
Jamie raise his hand to brush the mist away a great lump came into his
throat.
“Davy,” said he, after a little silence, “you’re a brave lad, and
careful, but ’tis a wonderful lonely place up there, trampin’ th’
trails. The storms come sudden and awful sometimes, and it takes a
man’s strength to face un. ’Tis frostier there, too, than here.
There’s none o’ th’ comfort o’ th’ home you’ve always been used to.
I’d never rest easy if I let you go and you never came back.”
“But,” insisted David, “I’ll be careful and come back--and Jamie
mustn’t be let t’ go blind. ’Twould be worse for he than bein’ dead.
_Let_ me go, Pop!”
“I’ll think about un--I’ll think about un,” said Thomas, and he closed
his eyes to think.
At the end of ten minutes, when Thomas opened his eyes again, he had
decided, and turning to Indian Jake, he said:
“I’m thinkin’, now, I’ll let Davy go, and I’ll let Andy go along t’
keep Davy company and help he. The two will be company for each other,
and doin’ th’ work together they’ll get over th’ trail faster than
ever Davy could alone, and if they’s a mishap, one can help the other.
But you’ll have t’ keep an eye to un, Jake!”
“It’s all the same to me, whether one or both of ’em go,” said Indian
Jake. “I’ll keep an eye on ’em, so they won’t get in trouble.”
“Thank you, Pop! I’ll be wonderful careful,” said David, with vast
relief and satisfaction.
“Are you meanin’ _I’m_ t’ go t’ th’ trails, too?” asked Andy, who had
been standing with David and Indian Jake by the bedside.
“Aye, Andy, lad,” said Thomas, “you’ll go along and help Davy.”
“Oh--Pop!” exclaimed Andy, which was all his emotions and excitement
would permit him to say.
“Is you glad, now?” asked Thomas with a smile, for he knew very well
how glad Andy was. It is the greatest wish of every lad on The
Labrador to go to the trails and hunt, as his father does, and eagerly
he waits for the time when he may go. It is a brave life, that, living
in the midst of the great wilderness, surrounded by its ever-present
mysteries, and what boy is there who does not wish to do brave deeds?
’Tis a man’s work, following the trails, and the trapper plays a man’s
game, and what boy does not wish to play a man’s game?
“Oh, I’m _wonderful_ glad!” exclaimed Andy.
“’Twill be fine t’ have Andy along!” broke in David, “and we’ll hunt
fine together.”
“We’ll hunt un the best ever we can,” asserted Andy.
And thus it had been decided, and the plan seemed a good one to Doctor
Joe, for it was the only solution of the problem of how to get the
money that would be so necessary the following summer.
Nevertheless, neither Doctor Joe nor Thomas could quite rid himself of
a feeling of anxiety and uncertainty as to the wisdom of permitting
the boys to enter the wilderness with Indian Jake. They could not
forget his record, in spite of his fair promises, and try as they
would they could not feel complete confidence in him.
The days that followed were busy ones at The Jug. It was the middle of
the first week in September, and Indian Jake was eager to be away to
the trapping grounds the following Monday, for it would be a three
weeks’ journey, and with the coming of October the lakes might be
expected to freeze at any time. They would travel by boat and
therefore it was essential that they arrive at their destination on
Seal Lake before the freeze-up came.
And so there was great hustle and bustle, assembling the outfit and
getting all in readiness. And Margaret, too, was no less busy than the
others, working early and late preparing the warm clothing that the
boys would need.
Each was to be supplied with two adikys, one of heavy kersey cloth and
one of moleskin. The latter, with its close-woven, smooth surface,
would be an excellent protection from the wind, and snow would not
readily cling to it, and it was made large enough to wear over the
former. Both garments were fitted with hoods, and the hood on the
kersey adiky was trimmed with fur around the face to add to its warmth
and comfort. These garments were to be drawn on over the head like a
sweater, but were loose and roomy. There were no buttons, and no
openings where snow could sift in, and a drawstring around the face
permitted them to be adjusted snugly to the cheeks, though there was
no attempt to have them cover nose or mouth, for were that done the
moisture from the breath would freeze upon the face and cause painful
frostbite.
Then in each outfit there were a half dozen pairs of slippers, or
socks, made of heavy woolen blanket duffle, to wear inside the
buckskin moccasins, and two pairs of mittens of the same material to
wear inside buckskin mittens, and each had a pair of moleskin cloth
leggins.
Some of these things the boys already possessed, as they did round,
peakless muskrat skin caps that could be drawn down over the ears and
worn inside the adiky hood, but Margaret went carefully over all, to
be quite sure everything was in the best of order.
Other clothing and equipment consisted of moleskin trousers, several
pairs of buckskin moccasins for winter wear, and kneehigh sealskin
boots for the milder weather of autumn and spring; buckskin mittens,
underwear, heavy outer shirts, ordinary knit socks, a sleeping bag for
each lined with Hudson’s Bay Company blankets, cooking utensils, axes,
files for sharpening axes, and a mending kit containing needles and
thread for making repairs. And each was supplied with a 44-40 carbine,
and a quantity of ammunition. These were their especial pride. David
had been presented with his rifle the previous winter by Thomas, and
Andy was to have an old one which his father had used before he
purchased one of a later model.
Indian Jake assembled the general camp equipment and the provisions,
the latter consisting chiefly of flour, pork, tea, a small keg of
molasses, and salt, packing everything into snug, convenient packages,
that could be handled easily.
Jamie was vastly interested in the preparations. He did little things
to help the boys, and Indian Jake permitted him to hold open the
mouths of the bags as he packed them, to Jamie’s delight, and made the
lad feel that he was really of much assistance, and the two became the
best of friends.
Doctor Joe had gone home to Break Cove on the evening that the boys
had returned from the post with Indian Jake, and was not expected back
until Sunday. They were surprised, therefore, to see his boat coming
up the bight on Saturday morning, and astonished when Doctor Joe
announced upon his arrival that he had decided not to go to his old
trapping grounds that winter.
“I’ve been thinking matters over,” he explained, “and if you’ll let
me, I’ll make The Jug my home this winter. I’ll hunt up here, Thomas,
where you used to hunt before you took the Seal Lake trail, when the
children were small, and you had to be home o’ nights. My old trail is
pretty well hunted out, anyhow, and I’ll do better here where there
hasn’t been any trapping since you quit.”
“’Tis wonderful good of you,” said Thomas.
“I know well enough,” continued Doctor Joe, “that unless you’re
watched pretty closely, and I see you every day you’ll be trying to
use that leg some day before you should, and perhaps break it again.
With this arrangement I’ll be here every night and keep track of you,
and look after Jamie’s eyes, if they need it. Once a week isn’t often
enough. I can feed the dogs, too, and do the other rough work that’s
too hard for Margaret, and that she shouldn’t try to do.”
“I were thinkin’ o’ Margaret feedin’ th’ dogs,” said Thomas, “and I
don’t like to have her do it. They knows a lass can’t master un, and
they’d be like t’ turn on her some time.”
And thus it was arranged, to the vast satisfaction of Thomas and
Margaret, as well as Doctor Joe, that The Jug was to be his home while
the boys were away. And Jamie was mightily pleased, for Doctor Joe
would be jolly company of evenings, singing in his fine voice, as no
other in the Bay could sing, and telling him stories such as no one
else could tell.
Everything was in readiness on Saturday night, in order that Sunday
might be observed as a day of rest. Thomas would permit no work to be
done about his home on Sunday that could as well be done another day.
Like most of the Bay folk, his faith was simple and literal.
“’Tis wrong t’ work and ’tis wrong t’ shoot on a Sunday,” said he,
“and anything that ’tis wrong t’ do brings bad luck in th’ end if you
does un. ’Tis goin’ contrary t’ th’ Almighty.”
And so the day was spent in quietude and rest indoors, which pleased
Jamie greatly, for he was no less excited than David and Andy, and he
was glad to have them near. They had suddenly become heroes in his
sight, and indeed they _were_ heroes, aye, and soldiers, too, going
into the deep wilderness to battle with death-dealing blizzards and
bitter, changeless cold for the sake of those they loved.
“And you and Andy makes a good hunt, and gets th’ fur t’ pay for
havin’ th’ mist took out o’ my eyes,” said Jamie, passing his hand
before his eyes in a pitiful little attempt to brush the mist away
that he might see David’s features more plainly, “and th’ great doctor
cures un, _I’ll_ go to Seal Lake some time and hunt, too.”
“We’ll do our best, now,” assured David, “an’ _we’ll_ get th’ fur,
never fear.”
“That we will,” said Andy, squaring his shoulders.
“Pop says you’ll have t’ keep plenty o’ grit,” warned Jamie.
“We’ll keep plenty o’ grit,” said Andy.
“And a stout heart, like a man’s,” added Jamie.
“And we’ll keep our hearts stout like a man’s,” said Andy proudly.
It was to be a long time before the family should be together again,
and Margaret had the dinner table set close to Thomas’s bunk. Doctor
Joe had shot a great fat goose the day before--the first of the
season--and Margaret cooked it for their Sunday dinner. Then there was
bread and tea, and a fine big tart of bake-apple berries. And a cozy
feast they had, with the fire in the big stove crackling merrily, for
it was raw and cold outside. And though Thomas must needs lie flat
upon his back he enjoyed the feast as well as any of them, for
Margaret attended to that, in her gentle, thoughtful way.
When dinner was cleared away Doctor Joe told them stories, and at
Margaret’s request sang for them, and when he sang some hymns they all
joined with him--even Thomas, with a great bellowing voice. It was a
day to be remembered, and David and Andy were to think of it often in
the months to come, as they wearily tramped silent white trails, or
sat of evenings in lonely tilts.
It was after candlelight, and they were at tea, that evening, when
suddenly the door opened and in walked Uncle Ben Rudder and Hiram
Muggs. Uncle Ben led Hiram directly to Thomas’s bed, and Thomas
greeted them warmly.
“Good gracious! Good gracious!” exclaimed Uncle Ben. “To think, now,
that Thomas Angus went and broke his leg! Dear eyes!”
“’Twas a sorry mishap,” sympathized Hiram, a wiry, active little man
of few words.
“Aye,” agreed Thomas, “but it might ha’ been worse. I were thinkin’
how hard ’twould ha’ been when the children were little, or a season
when th’ fishin’ were poor, and I were in debt with nothin’ ahead for
th’ winter.”
“H-m-m-m,” grunted Uncle Ben. “I suppose nothin’s so bad it couldn’t
be worse, but bad’s bad enough for all that. Good gracious, yes!”
“Well,” said Thomas, “we have t’ take things as they come, good or
bad, and th’ best way, t’ my thinkin’, is t’ take un without
complaint. But set in now, and have tea.”
When tea was cleared away, and Indian Jake and Hiram and Doctor Joe
were smoking their pipes comfortably at the other end of the room,
Uncle Ben seated himself by Thomas’s bed and asked:
“How about th’ huntin’, Tom? I says to myself, when Davy tells me you
broke your leg, ‘Tom’ll need some one, now, t’ hunt his trail on
shares. Good gracious, yes!’ and so I speaks t’ Hiram, and Hiram says
he’ll hunt un, and here Hiram is, ready t’ go.”
“Why, I got un all fixed for Indian Jake t’ hunt un, along with Davy
and Andy, and they starts in th’ marnin’,” explained Thomas.
“H-m-m-m!” grunted Uncle Ben. “Th’ Lard helps them that’s got common
sense. Good gracious! What’s Indian Jake like t’ do? You know Indian
Jake. He’s like t’ make off with all th’ fur. Good gracious, you know
_him_!”
“Well,” said Thomas, a tinge of regret in his voice, for Hiram was
both a good hunter and reliable man, “Indian Jake has my word he’s t’
go, and Tom Angus never goes back on his word.”
Uncle Ben grunted and grunted, and was soon in such ill humor because
Thomas would not listen to his arguments to change his plan that he
spread his blankets upon the floor, crawled into them, and was
presently snoring uproariously.
And there was no doubt that Thomas had some misgivings about Indian
Jake, because of Indian Jake’s bad record. And there was no doubt,
too, that these misgivings had been increased by Uncle Ben, whose
advice the folk of the Bay were accustomed to heed, for Uncle Ben’s
judgment was in the long run uncommonly sound.
“But a man’s word is a man’s word,” said Thomas to himself, “and when
a man gives un there’s no goin’ back on it, for that wouldn’t be
straight dealin’, and first to last the man that keeps his word and
deals straight comes out on top.”
And so Thomas kept his word and stuck to his bargain, as any man
should, and in the twilight of Monday morning the boat was loaded, and
when David and Andy said farewell Thomas told them to do their best,
and Doctor Joe told them to stand up to their work like men, and Jamie
told them to keep their grit, and Margaret cried a little, for The Jug
was to be a lonely place now.
And then, with David and Andy waving to those on shore, the boat moved
down the bight and out into the bay, until it passed from view around
the point, and the three voyageurs were on their way at last to the
great wilderness which was to hide them in its silent and mysterious
depths for many long months.