David and Andy had agreed to sleep later on Christmas morning. This
was to be a day of rest and recreation. Sleeping late meant, to them,
until break of day. But Indian Jake arose at the usual early hour, and
his movements aroused the boys, and through force of habit they sat up
in their bunk.
“No need of you fellers gettin’ up yet unless you want to,” said
Indian Jake cheerfully. “I had some things I wanted t’ do, so I got up
t’ get un done before breakfast. I’ll call you when breakfast is
ready. This is Christmas, you know.”
“Thank you, Jake,” yawned David, snuggling back into his sleeping bag.
“I’m thinkin’ I’ll take another snooze, then. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas to both of you!” broke in Andy, who, following
David’s example, settled down again into his bag. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll
snooze some more, too.”
“The same to you, lads! I’ll call you when I’m through fussin’
around.” The half-breed spoke with unusual heartiness and good nature.
It was evident that his mood of silence and sullen indifference of
the previous evening had passed, and that he was in an excellent frame
of mind.
Indian Jake proceeded at once to put flour into the mixing pan, and to
knead a quantity of dough. Then, assuring himself by their heavy
breathing that the boys were soundly sleeping, he cautiously drew from
beneath his bunk a two-quart covered pail that served him, when on the
trail, as a cooking kettle. Lifting the cover, he examined the
contents.
“They’re all right,” he said. “They’ll do. They’ve been froze ever
since I picked ’em in September.”
He now lay down, side by side, two of the boards used for stretching
fox pelts, and cutting a piece of dough from the mass in the mixing
pan, he placed it upon the boards, and proceeded to roll it thin with
the end of a round, dry stick. This done to his satisfaction, he
turned up the edges of the dough on all sides, and poured upon it the
contents of the pail, which proved to be cranberries. These he spread
evenly over the dough, and rolling it up, placed it in a small bag of
cotton cloth which he produced from his kit bag. The bag containing
dough and berries, was now deposited in the tin pail, the cover
replaced, and the pail set behind the stove.
“The lads’ll never look into that,” he observed, “and she’ll be safe
enough there, and won’t get chilled till I wants her.”
He again reached under his bunk and drew forth a package which he had
deposited there with the kettle and other personal belongings upon his
arrival the previous evening. Looking furtively, to make certain the
boys were not awake and observing him, he undid this, and there
appeared a big fat goose, all picked and cleaned. He proceeded at once
to cut this into sections, which he dropped into the large cooking
kettle which was one of the furnishings of the tilt.
“There,” he said, after covering the goose with cold water, putting
the lid on the kettle and placing it beside the other, behind the
stove, “she’s froze pretty hard, but that’ll draw th’ frost out, and I
can set her on when I’m ready, and cook her in the same water.”
Turning then to the dough remaining in the pan, he began to mould it
into cakes, and fry it after the usual fashion.
“Plum duff!” he muttered to himself as he placed the frying pan on the
stove. “If we’re goin’ t’ keep Christmas we may’s well keep her right,
and surprisin’ is a part of keepin’ her. ’Twon’t do any harm t’
surprise ’em, and make ’em feel good. They’ll like me better for it.
They like me pretty well now. They brought the fur down, and I didn’t
have t’ show ’em what I had. I wonder how much they’d like me if they
knew what I’m plannin’ t’ do when we goes out in th’ spring!”
When Indian Jake had finished bread baking it was broad daylight, and
when presently he called the boys several loaves of the hot bread were
ranged upon a board by the stove, tea was made and caribou steaks
were frying, and the tilt was filled with the pleasant odor of
cooking.
“Oh, but it smells good!” exclaimed Andy, springing out of his bunk.
“I feel like I could eat a whole deer!” declared David.
“Well, get washed up, then!” grinned Indian Jake “Breakfast is ready
and waitin’.”
A storm had sprung up in the night. As they ate they could hear the
wind howling around the tilt, and dashing snow in spiteful gusts
against the door. But with the cheerful, crackling fire in the stove
they were as warm and cozy as any one could wish, and after breakfast,
when Indian Jake lighted his pipe and the boys snuggled down in vast
and luxurious contentment, Andy remarked:
“’Tis fine t’ feel we can ’bide inside, and don’t have t’ go out in
th’ snow t’ cut wood or anything. ’Tis a fine day for Christmas.”
They discussed the furs they had accumulated, and what they were
likely to get before the season closed, and the price the furs would
bring, and the boys were made vastly happy by Indian Jake’s
reassurance that they already had, he was quite certain, enough to pay
the expenses of Jamie’s operation. Then it was quite natural they
should be deeply concerned about their father’s broken leg, and
whether it was healing, and whether or not the mist in Jamie’s eyes
was continuing to thicken. Indian Jake was wholly optimistic.
“Your father’s up and about before this,” he cheered. “He’s feedin’
th’ dogs and ’tendin’ t’ things, and like as not doin’ some huntin’
close by Th’ Jug. There’s no need worryin’ about Jamie’s eyes, either.
Doctor Joe’s lookin’ out for them. He’ll see to ’em and take care of
’em. He’ll never let th’ lad go blind.” Indian Jake’s positive manner
lent this assurance the character of certainty. It seemed to remove
from the day the last cloud, and they fell to speculating upon what
the folk were doing at The Jug, and how they were enjoying the
Christmas day.
And thus they talked of this and that until at length Indian Jake
announced that it was time to “think of dinner,” and reaching behind
the stove brought forth the big kettle containing the goose, and set
it upon the fire, after taking a surreptitious peek under the cover.
“What’ll we have for dinner?” asked David. “I’m gettin’ hungry
already.”
“Meat and other things. They’s no knowin’ what all,” answered Indian
Jake cautiously.
“What’ll there be t’ have besides meat?” asked Andy curiously.
“Whitefish, maybe--and other things. But I don’t want any questions
asked,” warned Indian Jake. “_I’m_ gettin’ dinner. You’ll see what we
have when th’ time comes.”
Indian Jake was most mysterious, and he was in great good humor with
it all. The boys were keyed to a high state of expectancy. Something
unusual was surely in store for them. The kettle boiled and in due
time sent forth a most delicious and appetizing odor. The boys
speculated and endeavored to identify the odor until suddenly David,
with a happy thought, exclaimed:
“She smells like goose!”
“Where’d I be gettin’ goose _this_ time o’ year?” asked Indian Jake,
as though it were a most preposterous suggestion. “Didn’t we eat all
the geese we had frozen up after the bear’s meat was gone?”
“Aye,” admitted David regretfully, “we ate un all; but she _smells_
wonderfully like goose, and I wish she _were_ goose!”
“She ain’t deer’s meat, _what_ever!” declared Andy.
“You’ll see when the time comes,” was all the satisfaction Indian Jake
would give them, as he partially lifted the lid and threw some salt
into the kettle as seasoning. Then, pouring boiling water into the
kettle containing the pudding, he placed it also on the stove.
“What’s in _that_, now?” asked Andy.
“They’s no tellin’,” Indian Jake grinned. “They might be ’most
anything. Davy, get a pan of whitefish ready to fry, whilst I mix some
dumplings for th’ big kettle. We’ll start in with whitefish.”
The boys could scarcely contain their curiosity. The mystery was
thickening, and the odor of goose was growing more appealing. Even
when Indian Jake dropped the dumplings into the kettle, and they took
big whiffs when he lifted the lid, they could make nothing of it.
“Oh-h-!” breathed Andy ecstatically. “But that smells good! And I’m
hungrier’n I ever was in my life!”
“So be I!” declared David, turning the fish.
Indian Jake brewed the tea, and at last dinner was ready.
“Don’t eat too much of th’ fish,” he cautioned. “That’s just a
starter.”
And so maintaining his air of mystery, and keeping the boys in
suspense until the last moment, he lifted the cover from the kettle at
the proper time with the announcement:
“It’s goose, lads, with dumplin’s. You guessed right.”
“Oh! Goose! Goose!” exploded Andy.
“I thought she smelled wonderfully like goose!” exclaimed David.
Indian Jake grinned broadly.
“This is just the best Christmas dinner we ever could have!” enthused
Andy, as Indian Jake dished him a liberal portion.
“Where’d you get un, Jake?” asked David, as Indian Jake filled his
plate. “After the bear’s meat were gone I were thinkin’ we ate th’
last goose we had.”
“I shot un just before th’ freeze up,” explained Indian Jake. “I was
huntin’ up near where my first tilt is, and I left un in th’ tilt
where she froze up and kept good, and I kept un for a Christmas feed.
And now we’re havin’ th’ feed!”
But it _was_ a dinner! And how they ate! They were sure the goose was
every whit as good as though it had been fresh killed! It was fat and
tender as ever a goose could be, and Indian Jake explained that while
it was a big goose, it was a young one! And the dumplings! They were
light and fluffy, and there was plenty of gravy to cover them!
“Don’t eat too much, now!” warned Indian Jake. “Save room for what’s
comin’!”
Something was surely coming! Whatever it was, it bobbed merrily in the
kettle, making the cover dance and jingle a lively tune. At last
Indian Jake arose, and, taking the mixing pan, cleaned and dried it
carefully.
The boys were on tiptoes, with curiosity and expectation. Indian Jake
had never done anything with so much deliberation in his life!
Satisfied, finally, that the pan was quite dry, he lifted the lid of
the kettle and disclosed a cotton bag filled almost to bursting. With
the point of his sheath knife he lifted the tied end of the bag
cautiously, seized it quickly, and transferred the bag from the
boiling water into the pan.
“Duff!” shouted Andy. “Plum duff!”
“Um-m-m! Plum duff!” echoed David.
Indian Jake ripped the bag its length, and with a dexterous movement
lifted it, leaving the pudding naked, and disclosed in all its glory,
announcing as he did so:
“Cranberry puddin’!”
Then he cut it into three big portions, and covering each with
molasses, in lieu of sauce, passed one to each of the boys.
“There ’tis,” he said. “Go to un, and see how you like un!”
Like it! They were both quite sure they had never eaten _such_ a
pudding in all their life. Andy declared it “A wonderful lot better
than plum duff!” It was a fit crown for the dinner.
Indian Jake explained that he had picked the berries one day when they
were making a portage along the Nascaupee River. He had put them in
the tea pail which he used on his trail, and there he found them when
he opened the pail at his first tilt. They were frozen, and he stowed
them away with other things under his bunk, and quite forgot them
until he heard Andy wishing for plum duff on the day they killed the
caribou.
“Then I makes up my mind if you wants plum duff so bad, we’ll use t’
berries and have some,” he concluded.
“You’ve been thinkin’ up a wonderful lot o’ surprises for us,” said
Andy appreciatively.
The wind continued to howl and the snow to drift outside, but it
troubled them not in the least. They were as snug and warm and
satisfied as ever mortals can be. They were as happy, too--only David
and Andy complained that they had eaten too much. But that is
characteristic of boys the world over, on such occasions. And as for
Indian Jake, he had reason to be the happiest of the three, for there
is no happiness so complete as that which comes from giving others
pleasure.
And if it were to be measured by appreciation rather than by variety
or quality of cooking, or manner of service, I daresay nowhere in all
the world was a better dinner served that Christmas day than in the
little Narrows tilt on Seal Lake, in the heart of the Labrador
wilderness.