One fine day, when summer had merged into autumn, and things in Red
River appeared to be advancing favourably, and Dan Davidson had
recovered his strength, and Little Bill was fairly well, it occurred to
Okematan that he would like to go to Lake Winnipeg, and see how the
settlers who had gone to the fishery there, were getting on.
You see, the Cree chief was an observant savage, and, before returning
to his tribe, had made up his mind to see all the phases in the life of
the new Palefaces who had thus come to take possession of the land.
He was a remarkably independent fellow, and as he served the Davidsons
for nothing except his food--which he did not count, as he could easily
have supplied himself with victuals by means of his line, bow, and gun--
he did not deem it necessary to ask leave of absence. He merely went to
the house one morning, and announced his intention of going to Lake
Winnipeg to fish.
"I will go with you," said Dan, to whom the announcement was made.
"An' so will I," said Fred Jenkins, who chanced to be conversing with
Dan at the time--"that is, if they can spare me just now."
"The canoe of Okematan," said the chief, "holds no more than three. He
wishes to take with him Arch-ee and Leetil Bill."
"Very well," returned Dan, "there's no objection to that, for there is
not much doing on the farm at this moment, and Archie has worked hard
all the summer, so he deserves a holiday. We will just make up the same
party that started last time, only that Fergus and I will take a
somewhat bigger canoe so as to accommodate you, Jenkins."
"Thankee. Though I am big--unfort'nitly--I can stow myself away in
small compass, an' I've larned how, when there ain't overmuch grub, to
git along fairly well on short allowance. When d'ee trip your anchor?--
I mean, when do ye start?"
"When to-morrow's sun touches the tree-tops in the east," said the
Indian chief.
"All right, Okematan, I'm your man--after layin' in a breakfast-cargo."
According to this arrangement the two canoes pushed off at daybreak the
following morning, from the wharf at the foot of the garden of Prairie
Cottage, and began the descent of the Red River, which, after flowing
between twenty and thirty miles northward, enters the mighty bosom of
Lake Winnipeg. Okematan and Archie occupied their old places in the
stern and bow of the chief's canoe, with Little Bill in the middle--this
time using a paddle, for his strength had greatly increased. The other
canoe was steered by Dan; Fergus acted bowman, and Jenkins sat between
them, also wielding a paddle.
That night they encamped on the banks of the river, for their progress
had been slow, owing to sundry visits which had to be paid to settlers
on the way down.
"Well, now," observed the sailor, as he stood by the camp-fire smoking
his pipe contemplatively, "I find that as circumstances change about in
this world men's minds are apt to go 'bout-ship along wi' them."
"That sounds a terribly profound speech, Fred," said Archie, who was
busy at his very usual occupation of whittling an arrow for his brother.
"Did your father teach it you, or did you crib it from a copy-book?"
"No, I raither think," retorted the seaman quietly, "that I got it from
your grandmother by the father's side."
"What may be the circumstance that has caused your mind to go about-ship
just now?" asked Dan, stirring the fire under the robbiboo-kettle.
"Well, it's in regard to them there canoe-paddles. Although they do
seem small, compared with oars, I find they're quite big enough to do
the work, and although I've bin trained from a youngster to handle the
oar, an' go like a crab with my back the way I'm pullin', it do seem
more sensible-like to sit wi' one's face to the front and drive ahead;--
anyhow, it's more comfortable and satisfactory."
"Look out, Jenkins!" exclaimed Little Bill, "else your duck won't be
satisfactory--it's burnin' now."
"O, never mind," remarked Fergus, lighting his pipe. "It iss havin' it
well done he would be fond of."
"Ay, but not over-done," cried the seaman, snatching the duck in
question from before the blaze and turning its other side--for they used
no spits in the Nor'-West in those days, but cooked one side at a time--
nay, even carved off and ate part of the cooked side while the other
side was roasting.
Next day they came out on the ocean-like expanse of the great lake, and
steered along its western shores until they reached the fishery, where
numbers of rudely-constructed wigwams and a few tents sheltered the
fishing community.
They had just returned from a successful visit to the nets when the
visitors arrived, and all was animation and rejoicing at the successful
take. Jacques Bourassin was the first man they met on landing, and he
was enthusiastic about the prospects before them. Slowfoot was the
first woman, and she was quite satisfied--in that amiable state of
mental and physical felicity in which it is so easy to believe that "all
is for the best." Her husband soon after appeared. He, of course, was
also greatly pleased. He had joined the fishers because he believed
that plenty of food, tea, and tobacco would be going amongst them. He
was not mistaken.
"You will come to my tent," he said, in the wealth of his hospitality;
"we have plenty of good fish, a very little meat, some tobacco, and
oceans of tea!"
The six visitors accepted the invitation, and were soon made acquainted
with all the gossip of the community.
"Does it always smoke?" whispered Little Bill to his brother.
The "it" referred to was Baby La Certe, which had, as usual, possessed
itself of its father's pipe when the mother was not watching.
"I'm not sure, Little Bill, but I think that it does its best."
It was observed, especially by Fred Jenkins, that the tea-drinking which
went on at this place was something marvellous.
"There's that squaw sittin' there," he said, "she's bin an' swigged
three pannikins o' tea while I've bin looking at her--an' it's as black
as ink. What's that brown stuff they put into it, does any one know?"
"That? Why, it is maple sugar," answered Archie, "an' capital stuff it
is to eat too."
"Ah, I know that, for I've ate it in lump, but it can't be so good in
tea, I fancy, as or'nary brown or white sugar; but it's better than fat,
anyhow."
"Fat!" exclaimed Little Bill, "surely you never heard of any one taking
fat in tea, did you?"
"Ay, that I did. Men that move about the world see strange things. Far
stranger things than people invent out o' their own brains. Why, there
was one tribe that I saw in the East who putt fat in the tea, an'
another putt salt, and after they'd swallowed this queer kind of
tea-soup, they divided the leaves among themselves an' chawed 'em up
like baccy."
The evident delight with which these half-breeds and more than
half-Indians swallowed cup after cup of the blackest and bitterest tea,
proved beyond question their appreciation of the article, and afforded
presumptive evidence at least that tea is not in their case as poisonous
as we are taught to believe.
But it was not, as Jenkins remarked, all fair weather, fun, and tea at
the fishery. After the six visitors had been there for a week, shooting
and assisting in the canoes, and at the nets, there came a night when
the forces of Nature declared war against the half-breeds and those
settlers who had cast in their lot with them at that time.
Jenkins, Okematan, and Archie had been out with their guns that day--the
last having been promoted to the use of the dangerous weapon--and in
their wanderings had about nightfall come upon a family of half-breeds
named Dobelle, a good-natured set, who lived, like La Certe, on the
_laissez faire_ principle; who dwelt in a little log-hut of their own
construction within the margin of the forest, not far from the shore of
the great lake.
This family, though claiming to be Christian and civilised, was little
better than vagrant and savage. They were to some extent as independent
as the brute creation around them--though of course they betrayed the
inherent weakness of mankind in being unable to exist happily without
tea, sugar, and tobacco. For the rest, their wants were few and easily
satisfied. Snares provided willow-grouse and rabbits; traps gave them
furs and the means of purchasing guns and powder. Their log-hut was
only an occasional residence. Wherever night overtook them they were at
home. They camped on the open plains, in the woods, among the rocks,
and on the margins of rivers and lakes. Healthy, happy, and heedless,
the Dobelle family cared for nothing apparently, but the comfort of the
passing hour; regarded the past as a convenient magazine from which to
draw subjects for gossip and amusement, and left the future to look
after itself.
There were in the hut, when the three visitors entered, old Dobelle, his
wife, a daughter of eighteen, another of four, and two sons of twenty
and twenty-two respectively.
"It looks like dirty weather," said Jenkins on entering; "will you let
us come to an anchor here for a bit?"
"Give us shelter?" explained Archie, who doubted old Dobelle's ability
to understand nautical language.
"You are welcome," said the half-breed, making way politely, and
pointing to places on the floor where the visitors were expected to
squat. For there was no furniture in that mansion; the fire was kindled
in the middle of its one room; the family sat around it on deer and
buffalo skins, and the smoke alike of pipe and fire found egress at the
crevices in the roof.
With kind hospitality Madame Dobelle poured some black tea into cups of
birch-bark, and, on plates of the same material, spread before them the
remains of a feast of roasted fish.
While eating this, various questions were put as to the success of the
fishery.
"Yes--we have been very successful," said old Dobelle. "No bad weather
to speak of, and plenty of fish. Our good fortune is great."
"But it won't last long," said the eldest son, who seemed to be the only
growler in the family.
"_N'importe_--we will enjoy it while it lasts," said the younger son.
"Yes, truly we will," remarked Madame Dobelle. Whereupon the daughter
of eighteen smiled, and the daughter of four giggled.
"What does Okematan think?" asked the host.
Thus appealed to, the chief gave it as his opinion that something was
going to happen, for the sky in the nor'-west looked uncommonly black.
Having given utterance to this cautious remark he relapsed into silence.
As if to justify his opinion, a tremendous clap of thunder seemed to
rend the heavens at that moment, and, a few minutes later, a heavy
shower of rain fell.
"Well that we got inside before that came on," said Archie. "I hope it
won't come on to blow, else we shall be storm-stayed here."
The weather seemed to be in a lively mood that night, for as the thunder
had promptly answered to Okematan's observation, so now the wind replied
to Archie's remark, by rushing up the natural avenue which extended from
the hut to the lake and almost bursting in the door.
"See to the ropes, boys," said old Dobelle, glancing uneasily at the
roof.
The young men arose, went out, regardless of weather, and secured with
additional care a couple of stout ropes with which the tendency of the
roof to fly away was restrained.
"Did it ever come off?" asked Archie with some curiosity, as the young
men returned and resumed their pipes.
"Yes--twice, and both times it was night," answered Madame Dobelle, "and
we were flooded out and had to camp under the trees."
"Which was not comfortable," added the old man. Another clap of thunder
seemed to corroborate what he said, and a blast of wind followed, which
caused the whole fabric of the hut to shudder. Jenkins looked
inquiringly at the roof.
"No fear of it," said old Dobelle; "the ropes are strong."
Thus assured, the visitors continued their meal with equanimity,
regardless of the storm that soon began to rage with great fury,
insomuch that the door required a prop to keep it up and rain began to
trickle in through crevices in the roof and drop here and there upon the
party. When one such drop chanced to fall on old Dobelle's nose, his
younger son arose, and, fastening a piece of birch-bark to the rafters,
caught the drop and trained it with its followers to flow towards an
unoccupied place in one corner, which, being accidentally lower than the
rest of the floor, formed a convenient receptacle for superfluous water.
At the same time Madame Dobelle made a shakedown of pine-branches in
another corner for her visitors, for it was obvious that they would have
to spend the night there, even although their own tent was not
far-distant.
By that time the storm was raging with unwonted violence. Nevertheless
the Dobelle family smoked on in placid contentment. When the time for
repose arrived, Madame Dobelle and her eldest girl retired to a box-bed
in a corner of the hut which was screened off--not very effectually--by
a curtain of birch-bark. The two brothers lay down in another corner.
The three visitors disposed themselves in the third, and, as the fourth
was monopolised by the rain-rivulet, old Dobelle lay down on one side of
the fire in the centre of the room, while the four-year-old girl reposed
on the other.
During the night the accumulation of tobacco-smoke with fire-smoke
produced a suffocating effect, but no one was capable of suffocation
apparently, for they all smoked on--except Archie, who, as we have said,
had not acquired the habit. Even the four-year-old girl, like Baby La
Certe, had a pull now and then at its father's pipe, and, from sundry
white emanations from the crevices in the bark curtains, it was evident
that the ladies behind these were enjoying themselves in the same way
during the intervals of repose.
Next morning was fine, and the three sportsmen returned to the fishery
to find that the storm had made an almost clean sweep of the nets. It
had carried most of them away; torn others to pieces, and almost ruined
the whole colony of fishermen; the ruin being all the more complete that
most of the nets had been received on credit, and were to be paid for
chiefly by the results of the autumn fishery.
La Certe was one of the chief sufferers; nevertheless, to judge from his
looks, La Certe did not suffer much! He had brought a considerable
amount of provision with him, as we have said, and, finding that one of
his nets had been washed ashore, he proceeded very leisurely to mend it,
while he smoked and assisted Slowfoot to consume pemmican and tea.
About this time a mysterious message was sent to Dan Davidson from Red
River by an Indian, requiring his immediate return. The sender of the
message was Elspie McKay; the summons was therefore obeyed at once.
As nothing further could be done at the fishery that autumn, the other
members of the expedition, and most of the fishers, returned with Dan to
the colony.