Okematan was not the only person who opened his eyes on the return of
the Sinclair boys to camp next day with their heavily laden canoe. The
Davidson and McKay families were much more emphatic in their
astonishment, for the boys, they knew, had not hitherto performed any
exploits in shooting. They had not supposed them gifted with even
ordinary powers as sportsmen, and had imagined that the poor invalid
little Bill was utterly helpless. On the other hand, Okematan was not
unacquainted with the sudden rise to unexpected celebrity of Indian boys
in his tribe, and knew something about the capacity of even cripples to
overcome difficulties when driven by that stern taskmaster, Necessity.
The abundant supply of provisions thus unexpectedly received was very
acceptable, because during the day on which the boys were absent, a
fresh band of immigrants had arrived on their way to Red River, and one
party of these, hailing from Switzerland, had come on to the little lake
where our Scotch friends were encamped, for the purpose of consulting as
to their future movements--for it was evident that it would be dangerous
as well as useless for them to proceed to Red River in the existing
state of affairs. The leader of the party was a fair-haired youth, who
could speak English very well.
The Scotch families were having their mid-day meal around the
camp-fires, when the Switzers arrived and introduced themselves. Of
course they were made heartily welcome by Mr Sutherland, who acted as
spokesman for his countrymen.
"We are unfortunate," said the leader of the new arrivals, whose name
was Andre Morel. "We hoped that the severe climate would be our only
foe to fight with--especially in a land where the people are so few."
Sutherland--whose sedate and quiet manner was consistent with his
position as an elder and spiritual guide of his countrymen at that
time--smiled gravely, shook his head, and stroked his chin.
"You will find," he said, "that whatever part of this world you go to,
the passions of man are always more deadly in their consequences than
surroundings, or climates, or anything else."
"H'm! what you say iss ferry true," remarked old McKay, who was busy
picking the drum-stick of a wild-goose at the moment. "If it wass not
for the jealousy an' ill-will o' the North-Westers we should hev been at
this goot hour in our comfortable houses amang the green fields of Rud
Ruver."
"Wheesht! faither!" interposed Duncan junior, "Mr Sutherland wass
speakin', an' ye've stoppit him."
"An' what if I hev, Tuncan? Can he not continoo to speak when I hev
done?" retorted the old man, resuming his drum-stick.
"You are right, Mr McKay," said the elder. "But for the unfortunate
jealousies of the two Companies, we might have been in very different
circumstances to-day. If the North-Westers could only see that the
establishment of a colony in Red River would in no way hinder the
fur-trade, we could all get along peaceably enough together. But it
seems to have been ordained that man shall reach every good thing
through much tribulation."
"I do not agree wi' you at all, Muster Sutherland," said old McKay.
"There iss many of rich people in this world, who hev all that hert can
wush, an' are born to it without hevin' any treebulation at all."
"But I did not say `all that heart could wish,' Mr McKay. I said
`_every_ good thing'."
"Well, an' iss not wealth a goot thing, Muster Sutherland?"
"Only if God's blessing goes along with it," returned the elder. "If it
does not, wealth is a curse."
"H'm! I wush I had a little more o' that curse--whatever," answered the
irreverent old man.
"Besides," continued Sutherland, not noticing the remark, "the rich are
by no means exempt from tribulation. They are sometimes afflicted with
bad children; not infrequently with bad health, which doctors, at two or
three guineas a visit, cannot cure, and many of them are much troubled
with poverty!"
"You are talking in ruddles now, Muster Sutherland," said old Duncan,
who, having finished the drum-stick and its duplicate, was preparing his
pipe for action.
"It is not much of a riddle, Mr McKay. I suppose you consider a man
with ten thousand a year rich, and a man with two hundred poor."
"Well, yes; I wull not be denyin' that."
"Well--if the rich man spends ten thousand and fifty pounds a year and
never has anything to spare or to lay by, is he not miserably poor--poor
in spirit as well as in purse? For, at the end of the year his purse is
empty, and he is in debt. On the other hand, if the man with two
hundred a year spends one hundred and fifty, gives away twenty, and lays
by thirty every year, is he not rich?"
"Ferry true, Muster Sutherland," said McKay, with a peculiar smile, as
he emitted his first whiff. "I wull not be arguin' wi' you, for you
always get the best of it. Nevertheless, it is my opeenion that we've
had treebulation enough in Rud Ruver since we came oot, an' I would be
ferry gled of a luttle prosperity now--if only by way of a pleesant
change."
Recurring to this subject a few days later, young Morel asked Dan
Davidson, while they were paddling back to camp together one evening
with the proceeds of a day's hunt: "Has your life in the colony, since
the beginning, been as bad as old McKay made it out the other day?"
"Well, making due allowance for the old man's use of strong language,
his account of matters has not been much overdrawn," answered Dan, who,
in virtue of his superior canoe-craft, acted the part of steersman.
"You see, when we came out here we expected, like you, that all would be
plain sailing, except as regarded climate and ordinary difficulties, but
our eyes were soon opened to the true state of things. Instead of the
wilderness, with a few peaceful inhabitants living under the mild sway
of the Hudson Bay Company, we found another company, apparently as
strong as the Hudson's Bay one, in violent opposition. They regarded
our coming as likely to ruin their trade, for Lord Selkirk was a share
holder in the Hudson's Bay Company, and it was supposed his object in
planting the colony was to advance his scheme of monopolising the whole
fur-trade of the Far West. I cannot myself see how this colony could
injure the fur-trade; but, anyhow, I know that the opposition has
affected the colonists very severely, for we have been deceived by the
contending parties, and misled, and delayed or thwarted in all our
operations.
"At the very outset, on our arrival, a band of the Nor'-Westers,
composed of half-breeds and Indians, warned us that our presence was
unwelcome, and tried to frighten us away by their accounts of the savage
nature of the natives. Then the fear of perishing for want of food
induced a lot of us to take their advice, leave the farms allotted to
us, and go to a place called Pembina, about seventy miles distant from
the colony, there to spend the long and hard winter in tents, according
to the Indian fashion, and live on the produce of the chase."
"I should have thought that was a pleasant way of spending the first
winter," remarked Andre Morel, who, besides being young, was strong and
enthusiastic.
"So thought some of us at first," returned Dan, "but when we found that
the thermometer fell to somewhere between 40 and 50 degrees below zero;
that walking in snow-shoes, trapping, hunting buffalo, and shooting,
were not to be learned in a few days; and when we saw our women and
children dependent sometimes on the charity of Indians, and reduced
almost to starvation, we changed our minds as to the pleasure of the
thing. However, if the school was rough, it made the scholars all the
quicker, and now I think that most of us are equal to the Redskins
themselves at their own work.
"When that winter came to an end," continued Dan, "we returned to Red
River, in the month of May, wiser men, thoroughly determined to plant
and sow, and make ourselves independent of the savages. But hunger
followed us, for fish were scarce that season; so were roots and
berries; and, if it had not been for a kind of parsnip which grows wild
in the plains, and a species of eatable nettle, I do believe some of us
would have gone under altogether."
"And did your first sowing turn out well?" asked the young Swiss, who
having been bred a watchmaker, had only hazy notions as to farming.
"Ay, there was a gleam of prosperity there that led us to hope great
things for the future," answered Dan; "but the gleam did not continue.
Why, one fellow, not far from our place, sowed four quarts of wheat, and
reaped twelve and a half bushels; but we had terrible trouble to save
our crops from the birds. In the Spring and Fall, blackbirds and wild
pigeons pass over the prairies on their way north or south, in immense
numbers. They pass in such numbers that they could, I do believe,
swallow our whole harvest, if they got only a grain a-piece. The
berries failed them that year, an' men, women, and children had to work
hard wi' guns, bird-nets, and rattles, from morning to night, to say
nothing o' scarecrows. We had resolved never to go near Pembina again,
but what we saved of the harvest was little more than enough for seed,
so we were forced to try it for another winter. Troubles again awaited
us there. The half-breeds and Indians--who had been kind at first--
became jealous. A plot was discovered to murder two of our party who
had undertaken to hunt, so we were obliged to buy our provisions at a
high price, and even to barter away our clothing to avoid starvation,
and we returned half-naked to the Settlement the following spring.
Then, coming upon us in armed bands and superior numbers, they drove us
out of the Settlement altogether at last, and we came here to Jack River
to spend the winter as we best could. After that we went back and
struggled on for some time, but now, here have they a second time
banished us! What the end is to be, who can tell?"
"Truly, if such be the country I have come to, I will go back to my
native land and make watches," remarked the Swiss in a tone from which
the sanguine element had almost entirely disappeared.