Investing Hard-earned Dollars
Barely six months had passed since Joe Bradley took passage to Canada
and became one of the ever-growing army of immigrants who yearly ascend
the mighty St. Lawrence river and are scattered throughout the
provinces of the Dominion. The days had flown since his landing, and
but for that long chase of Hurley, the murderer, scarcely an event had
happened to break through the orderliness of his day's duties. No
longer was he a greenhorn, either. His knowledge of farming as it is
practised in England may be said to have been still extremely small,
but of farming in the Dominion he knew almost enough to manage a
quarter section of his own.
"Not that I advise it," said the cautious and knowing Peter. "You're
over young yet to face the worries which must come to a landowner, and
you could do with more capital. So you take the advice of one who's
tried, and go as a labourer a bit longer. Meanwhile, you could put
that 'ere money you've saved into something likely to make it grow
whilst you're prospecting with Hank."
Joe had, in fact, saved quite a respectable amount, for it must be
remembered that his personal expenses were extremely small, while his
wages were good. Moreover, the dollar bills which Hurley had stolen
from him had been recovered when that individual was captured, though
the precious letter left him by his father seemed to have been lost for
ever.
"It war a piece of luck, I do declare," said Peter. "Ef he'd gone off
along the railway there would have been a different tale to tell. Joe
aer fortunate to have come out of that mess with his life, and still
more lucky to have got back his dollars. As to the letter, there ain't
no saying if it war valuable. P'raps not; least, that's what I'm
hoping. And now the thing's to invest his savings so as they'll grow
while he's away prospecting. Seems to me, Hank, as ef this here place,
as well as the settlement right up agin the railroad, might soon get
big. The land's good for working. The crops this year has been
first-class, and some of our boys has won prizes for their wheat.
There's Jim, fer instance. His was nigh the heaviest yield per acre
that there's been recorded, while the grain weighed mighty heavy to the
bushel. In course the papers prints and publishes all these things,
and people gets to know. There's been strangers hereabouts looking fer
sections to take up come the summer. Wall?"
Hank was not the one to give an opinion offhand. He cogitated a great
deal, and as a rule his faithful little pipe helped him considerably,
or rather it appeared to help him, for it was his invariable custom to
fill it on such occasions, set fire to the weed, and sit crouched into
a ball, holding the pipe between two of his shapely fingers while he
stared into the open. In this case there was no open, for they were
seated in Mrs. Strike's parlour, and Hank had perforce to stare into
the open stove, which is part and parcel of every settler's dwelling.
"Never did see such a man!" exclaimed Mrs. Strike impatiently. "He's
all movement, you tell me, when he's off in the forest; but here, when
you want his advice, he jest sits down and blinks, till you feel as ef
you could shake him. I ain't got no patience with the man."
Peter grinned widely; he was accustomed to his wife's ways--and Joe
also--knowing well that it was all playfulness on her part. As for
Hank, the little man whom nothing daunted, as a rule, he pulled heavily
at his pipe and looked as if he might take to his heels and run away.
He glanced askance at Mrs. Strike, till the good woman smiled at him.
"I'm only teasing you," she explained, with a laugh. "But, dear, dear!
you do amuse me. Seems to me as ef I shouted you'd be scared almost
out of your life."
That set Hank grinning also--a nervous grin--then he became solemn, for
matters which concerned the welfare of Joe needed the utmost attention.
"I'm with you, Peter," he said at last. "Down by the railroad
things'll move soon. A few dollars laid out in town plots wouldn't
come to harm, while ef we was both to apply for quarter sections right
here, we could sell 'em at the break of winter to new settlers anxious
not to be too far out. What about Hurley's, by the way?"
"That aer fer sale now," came the answer. "He didn't do much to it,
and there don't seem no one wanting it just now, which are natural,
seeing that winter's here. Come next spring it'll be asked for."
"Then there's Joe's chance. Ef he ain't got enough dollars, I'll chip
in with him. Eh?"
"Ready and willing," agreed Joe. "I like the idea immensely. Hank and
I are off into the woods prospecting, and we're not likely to want much
cash. Seems to me it's a wise thing to put what I have where it may
grow during my absence. I'll apply for a quarter section right here.
It's a condition of the Government that all settlers shall fence their
sections in a given time, and break so much of the virgin ground. I
can't do that now, as we have hard frosts, and things are too cold for
working. In the spring, if I like to, I can tackle the job. If not, I
can sell; then I'll buy Hurley's if I can, and sell that again also."
Buying and selling is the life and soul of Canada. Land speculators
purchase from the Government with the sole idea of selling to those who
follow, and see in the land for sale something with greater attractions
than that offered free by the authorities. Again, men must fail in
such a country, and here and there are always to be found those
unfortunate enough to have to offer their sections, on which they may
have expended much toil already. Whereas a quarter section of virgin
land, extending to one hundred and sixty acres in all, may be of little
value when unbroken, broken and fenced it is almost always of
considerably enhanced value; for breaking and fencing mean the
expenditure of labour, and labour is terribly hard to come by at times
in the Dominion.
"We'll go along and see into the matter to-morrow, then," said Peter,
when the question had been further discussed. "Jest throw on a log or
two, Joe; it's cold enough to freeze one even inside the shack."
Those few days which followed gave our hero some idea, though not a
complete one, it must be acknowledged, of the life of settlers in
Canada during the long and severe winter which visits the land. There
are those who dread the winter. One meets occasionally a man who has
returned to England because of the Canadian winter, because of the
inertia it brings to great stretches of the country, stopping all
outside work, and, on the farms, cutting off neighbours from
intercourse with one another. At other times it is the loneliness and
silence of the life which send would-be settlers away; but not very
often. There are scores and scores who put up with the winter as we in
England put up with decidedly dispiriting weather, resting tranquilly
and passing the idle hours as best they can, knowing well that a
glorious summer will surely follow.
"Not that there's fogs and suchlike," explained Peter, when telling Joe
of the life. "Most days its beautifully sunny and bright, though the
thermometer may be down below zero. And as to stayin' indoors all the
while, that we don't. Most of us has knocked up runners, on which we
put the rigs when we've stripped the wheels from 'em. Jim down below
thar being a bachelor, with plenty to spend, and being also a good bit
of a sportsman, has dogs, and his team drags him from shack to shack,
specially round about Christmas. Even the school children get to
school on their snowshoes. There ain't no difficulty about that
neither, onless the weather's too altogether bad, for the Government
build schools fer each settlement. There only wants to be a matter of
seven children, and up goes a stone-built school, and a mistress who's
properly trained for the job gets a lodging in the nearest shack, or in
the school itself, and starts off to teach the youngsters. As to work,
wall, I finds heaps. Winter's jest the time for papering the walls of
the shack or fer doing a bit of painting. There's furniture wants
making, and last winter I and the hand that stayed with us built a new
stable. This time I'll whitewash all the outhouses, as well as the
fowlhouse."
"And for me there's enough and to spare to keep me from being idle or
from grumbling," interjected Mrs. Strike. "There's the house, in the
first place, with the beds to make and sichlike. There's food to be
cooked fer all, including the chickens, which have hot stuff every day
through the winter. And ef I'm dull with looking at Peter there, I've
only to go to the telephone and ring up Mrs. George Bailey. A real
nice woman that, Joe. She's a help to her husband, she is, and that
can't be said of every woman who's come out from England and has lived
her life till then in a villa just outside London, with never any
greater difficulty to provide for her family than that of stepping
along the street to the nearest shop. If they was all like her,
there's many settlers would be more successful."
It was clear that Peter and his wife could have kept on discussing this
theme for an hour or more; and to those who knew them it was equally
certain that these two worthy souls practised exactly as they preached.
They had faced the difficulties and the privations often met with in
greater number by early settlers, and they had succeeded. Peter was a
man who, thanks to hard work and a genial temperament, had made a
success of his quarter section, so that the land which had lain bare
for centuries before was now entirely tilled, and yielded handsomely to
his efforts. In fact, from the position almost of a pauper, the man
had advanced to a point where he earned a handsome income that was more
than sufficient for his needs, and allowed him to put by many dollars
during the course of a year.
"And it ain't finished there," he told Joe and Hank gleefully, when
dilating on the subject. "There's the quarter section. It's worth a
tidy heap of dollars--more'n a thousand pounds in English money--and
that's what I could get any day of the year. But I don't stand still,
not never."
"I've had my eyes around, and have gone in as a partner with a brother
of mine who came out to Canada at the same time. We worked together
for a while, then he went west into British Columbia. Wall, he took up
fruit land when irrigation wasn't much more'n dreamed of and, with
dollars I put to his, bought two sections close handy. They're gold
mines. He's been able to get labour, and seeing that he has a large
family of sons and daughters able to work and help, why, it's only
needed honest work to tickle the soil and put in the trees to turn over
a fine penny; the land does all the rest. It's that fertile it grows
astonishing crops of apples, while peaches, strawberries, and sichlike
do thundering well. Tom--that's my brother--was mighty wise and lucky
too; he took up ground within easy reach of Vancouver, so that he
always has a close market for his goods, putting aside the fact that it
allowed him to watch things going on, and buy other bits of land when
he thought they were likely to go up in value. That's where some of my
dollars has gone. Me and the missus will be sellin' up one o' these
fine days, and going west where it's warmer."
Joe was bound to admit that the cold did not trouble him. Not that the
winter had as yet set in in full severity, though there had been heavy
frosts and a fall of snow; but, as Peter had told him, he always found
work to do. Even those few days before departing with Hank were
strenuous ones. There were logs to saw for the stove, for the huge
iron thing which warmed the shack, and which is essential to a Canadian
winter, ate timber wholesale. Then there were the cattle to be tended
to--for they required feeding, since they could not graze for
themselves--there were the pigs also, while always water was wanted
inside the shack, and must be drawn from the well which had been one of
Peter's labours.
Of an evening, too, while the weather was so open, George and his
brother, Jim and other neighbours would drive over, and there would be
a jovial supper, followed by a dance, when Mrs. Strike bustled Joe
tremendously, till the rough furniture was cleared aside and the
boarded floor made ready for the dancers. Then it was Hank's turn, and
sometimes Jim's, though Hank was the one who usually obliged. Seated
cross-legged in a corner, his face as serious as if he had an army of
Redskins after him, the curious and lovable little fellow would bend
over his concertina and send forth such notes, that dancing became easy
even to the most clumsy.
Those were jolly days. The jovial and friendly fellow who had come out
from England had found not a set of desperadoes in the settlers of the
Dominion, but men and women just as he had known at home, with only the
difference which climate and environment necessarily bring. Hard
workers, they liked Joe because he was like them in that, and because
of his modesty. They liked him, too, because of his open admiration of
the country of his adoption and the life he led.
"Ef they was all like you there never wouldn't be any squabbling," said
Peter; "but Canadians is getting to understand the Britisher better.
He's coming out in greater numbers now, and sense he and we are the
backbone of the country, why, we're fools if we ain't friends."
It was on a bright, clear, frosty morning that Hank and Joe climbed
into Peter's rig and, with that worthy driving, set off for the nearest
station. Mrs. Strike wiped her eyes as they went, for she was
genuinely fond of them, while Tom shook Joe's hand as if he would
wrench it off and hold it as a keepsake. An hour later they were
aboard the train, and could see Peter driving back home to the
settlement.
"Guess he's a good fellow, and deserves to succeed," said Hank,
settling himself into a corner. "When next we see him it'll be spring
or later hereabouts, and things will have changed wonderfully.
There'll be a pile of people here compared with what's settled now.
That's always the case; every year makes a huge difference. Shouldn't
wonder if the plots you've bought didn't bring you in a small fortune;
but of course it's a toss up."
Joe watched the surroundings as they pulled out of the station, noting
the many shacks in the distance, and the fact that nearer the railway
some of the older settlers had replaced their log dwellings by
neatly-boarded houses. It was close to some of these that he himself,
with the advice of Hank and Peter, had purchased certain portions of
vacant ground in the hope that, as time passed, a township might spring
up, and thereby make his purchases more valuable. As to Hurley's
quarter section, the winter being on them, it happened that there was
no one who cared to purchase, and Joe had picked it up at a very modest
figure.
"You jest forget all about them things and set yer mind to the
expedition we're after," said Hank, after a while. "Fust we goes along
to Sudbury, where we can buy all that we want; then we sets off for
Fennick's. Guess we'll put in a week with him, and then strike off for
the country we're after. Maybe we'll get a bit of huntin', and seems
to me we should be wise, for a pelt or two will be useful for
bedcovering. Of course you've got to be able to stand the cold,
youngster. There's lots would think this job but madness. But a man
can easy stand the winter ef he's in hard condition, and particularly
ef he's in amongst the forests. As to bear, why, seeing as they
hibernate, there ain't much chance of meeting the beasts, though it do
happen sometimes that one of them gets disturbed, and then, ef he ain't
too sleepy, jest you look out fer ructions. I don't know of any animal
that's so tarnation dangerous as a bear, 'cept perhaps a caribou, and
he's jest every bit as bad as, they tell me, is a rhinoceros. Ever
hunted, lad?"
Joe was forced to admit that he had not. "Never had the chance," he
answered. "Minding a cycle shop for Father didn't give one
opportunities of going hunting, and besides, there isn't much to be had
in England, not of the sort you mean."
Of a sudden, as they sped along in the train, his thoughts went back to
the little township in which he had spent his boyhood, till the moment
had arrived for him to emigrate. He could not help but contrast his
condition here in Canada with what it had been there, and with what it
might have been had he remained. Travel and the wide expanse of New
Ontario lands had broadened Joe's mind, as it is bound to broaden the
outlook that any traveller takes of the world. Joe was, in fact,
beginning to realize that there is some truth in the statement that
travel is one of the finest educations.
"In course it is," asserted Hank, when he broached the subject, with
the idea of starting up a conversation with the little hunter. "How
could it fail to be? Don't I know the lives of them stay-at-homes.
They work hard, no doubt. They does their whack of toil that helps to
make the earth turn round, as you might say, and keep things hummin';
but, 'cept for the papers and sichlike, they ain't got two ideas as to
what other people's like, what they does with themselves, and how they
lives. And there's more, too, ef I could tell you. Stay-at-homes is
sometimes narrow-minded. Narrow-mindedness gives rise to suspicion, so
that it follows that men who are ignorant of one another's affairs and
of all that concerns 'em is often not too good friends. That's how it
is with nations. One don't know the other, and suspects all sorts of
things. Wall, see what's happenin'. The railways and the steamships
and them motor cars has made a deal of difference. People move about a
heap these days and see other people. So they get to understand 'em,
and, understandin' them, they see as they ain't much different to
themselves; also, they see that their intentions are just as friendly
as their own. And what follows? Why, better understanding, and the
way is paved to international friendships. Dear, how jawin' do tire a
man! I'm on fer a smoke."
He shut up like the proverbial oyster, leaving Joe to go on immersed in
his own particular brown study. He was wondering now what the Fennicks
had been doing with themselves, for though he had had a few lines from
them, he had had but the scantiest information; he had heard, in fact,
that they had settled, and that was all. Whether they had been
fortunate in finding exactly the class of surroundings they desired,
and whether the land they had chosen was rich, he had no idea. This he
knew, they were a two-days' march from the railway, so that he and Hank
had a long step before them.
"Guess we'll fill up at Sudbury," said Hank, after a while. "There's a
gun wanted fer you, and ammunition for both of us. A shooter, too,
ain't out of the way. We shall require warm clothing, too, though
we'll trust to our shooting to get us pelts and make the most of those.
A kettle, a fry-pan, and a few sich trifles will fill our kit, and then
we'll step it to the Fennicks'. Guess we ain't so far from Sudbury
now."
They found all they required in the town to which they had booked on
the railway, and laid out quite a number of dollars in buying
necessaries for their journey; for Hank insisted that salt, sugar,
coffee, and tea were as necessary to them as were bullets. Each bought
three pairs of thick socks, as well as roughly-fashioned fur gloves.
The cooking equipment presented no difficulties, while neither bothered
to buy extra boots.
"They'd load us up, that's all," said Hank; "besides, they ain't no use
with snowshoes. You wait a bit till we're well away. We'll bag a few
beasts that will give us skins, and then ef Hank can't make moccasins
and caps and sichlike, why, all his eddication in the woods is lost.
We've got enough as it is to carry, and come the time we reaches up at
Fennicks' we'll be sorry we brought so much."
"What about some sort of covering for the night?" asked Joe, who was as
yet ignorant on such matters.
"Coverin'?" asked Hank, scratching his head.
"Yes; surely we shall need it. It'll be frightfully cold, that is, if
the story I have heard is true."
"True enough, lad," agreed Hank; "only, yer see, you and I'll be movin'
every day, and exercise on snowshoes warms a man's blood. I know lots
of young fellows who go off from their farms when snow's lyin'
everywhere and the thermometer is 'way down below zero; but their
shirts is open in front jest as ef it war summer, while they ain't got
no use fer gloves. We'll be much the same, while at night a lean-to--a
double lean-to, you understand--made by driving two forked sticks into
the snow and laying one across the forks, with others leaning up agin
it, will give us a crib that couldn't be beaten fer warmth. I kin hear
folks that stays at home always shiverin' talkin' of rheumatism; but
there ain't nothing of that. A man who starts healthy through a
Canadian winter can keep healthy. Of course there's blizzards, and
nasty, dangerous things they are! I've laid in one of them lean-to
shacks as I've mentioned fer a week together till the snow was piled
deep over the top, and would ha' broken through ef I hadn't crawled out
every few hours and beaten it down. Cold? It warn't! It war hot
inside that 'ere crib. As fer lonely, wall, to some folks it might be,
but to me and mates like me--no, not bit! There's always a gun wants
cleaning; logs has to be broke and the fire kept going, and there's tea
and sichlike to prepare; while in between a man's got his pipe, and can
smoke and think. Thinkin' ain't bad fer a man, nor fer a woman, ef it
comes to that. There's many a time 'way back in my life when I might
ha' done different and better. Wall, then, rememberin' that aer good;
it's a sort of eddication. Then there's friends that you've knowed and
had high times with. Guess it's when a man gets stuck up in a
blizzard, with only his pipe to smoke, that he gets thinking of his old
pals, wondering what they're doing, where they are, and how the world
aer going fer them generally."
"But what about frostbite?" asked Joe, for that was a bogy which had
been presented to him in glaring colours.
Hank laughed, a silent little laugh which shook every inch of his frail
body. "Them old woman's tales was invented to scare new folks out from
home," he said. "There's frostbites and there's frostbites. I ain't
saying that they don't exist, but a hunter don't often get 'em, unless
he's held up somewheres and can't get cover. His blood runs strong and
hot most times, and the frost don't touch him. But it's the man who
ain't used to the cold, and who huddles up in a shack most of the day,
that gets bitten. Ef he's sensible, or has sensible friends, it don't
make much harm to him. Ef not, like as not he loses a toe or a finger,
or maybe a foot, though it's rare, so far as I'm able to reckon. You
ain't likely to get bit; a chap same as you, who's always on the hop,
gets his blood runnin' all the time. Don't you give a thought to it,
Joe."
Having stayed in the town sufficiently long to complete their
equipment, Joe and Hank finally took the track for that part of the
country in which the Fennicks had settled. The weather was still quite
open, though cold. But the bracing air agreed wonderfully with them
both, and though there was not the smallest need for haste, they
stepped out strongly, sending the miles rapidly behind them. It was
some distance outside the town that they came upon a party of
travellers riding in, and recognized Mike, the policeman, as one of
them.
"Hallo, Mike!" sang out Hank. "Been after more of them 'ere murderers?
How'd the case go with Hurley? This here Joe ha' been waitin' case he
should be called for evidence; but he heard a while ago as he warn't
likely to be wanted."
The face of the huge policeman, already tanned a deep colour, went red
under his tan, while an expression of annoyance flitted across his
features.
"We made a muss of that 'ere thing, Hank," he declared. "Joe wasn't
called for the simple reason that the folks who'd taken Hurley in
charge let him give 'em the slip. He got clear away, and I'm jest now
returning after a chase. He's gone--where, I don't know. But he's got
clear, which aer a bad nuisance. Jest you mind that you don't come up
agin him. He's not the one to forget old scores, and he'd rub it in ef
he'd the power. Wall, so long! I must get back and report; someone's
going to get trouble over this business."
They parted where they had met, Hank and Joe pushing onward still at a
sharp pace.
"I'm jest sorry that Hurley got clear," said Hank, after a while, as if
he had been thinking the matter out. "He's a bad man aer Hurley, and
bad men away in the wilds are apt to bring trouble to people. I've
knowed one who took up with a party of Redskins wandering in the
forests, and, gee! he didn't stop at anything. He'd made bad trouble
before the police rounded him up and shot him down. Let's hope we
shan't knock across this Hurley. Now, lad, guess we'll do another mile
or so and then fix our camp fer the night. Looks ter me as ef it might
snow, so we'll be wise to make all snug and tidy."
They came to a halt finally beside a small wood, and, penetrating to a
part where the trees were of considerable size, deposited their
belongings on the ground.
"Don't do to camp where it's damp, in the fust place," explained Hank.
"Where there's muskegs the trees soon rot, and ef a wind springs up you
might have the trunks coming about your ears, to say nothing of rotten
branches. This place is high and dry, and the trees, being stout and
well inside the wood, will stand up to a gale. Now fer that shack I
was talking about. Look out fer a tidy long-forked stick, and fer
other straight ones to lay across."
Hank was evidently a past master at all that appertained to camping,
for even without Joe's aid he would soon have erected the shack.
Taking two forked sticks, he drove the straight end in each case as
deeply into the ground as he was able; a third was laid over the forks,
and then a number were allowed to lean against the one laid
horizontally. Thus a species of _tente d'abri_ was constructed, and a
roofing quickly put to it, by the simple means of slashing off spruce
twigs and branches and laying them on top.
"That ain't always enough," explained Hank. "Ef there's a bad wind, it
would blow all them branches away. But it don't take long to cut turfs
or to peg the branches down, whichever you've a fancy for. Seein' as
the ground in here ain't over-hard, we'll take turfs; the wind won't
hurt 'em, and ef it turns to rain instead o' snow, why, not a drop'll
fall through. Now fer a bed--one between us, mate, for we'll be
companions in every way. A pile of these spruce twigs will suit us
well; then we'll light the fire and get the kettle going. A pot of tea
with a morsel to bite won't come amiss after our march. How do yer
think you'll like prospecting?"
Joe did not think; he was emphatic about the matter, for the farther
they went the better he enjoyed the trip. He busied himself now with
the fire, for, during the chase of Hurley, George Bailey had taught him
much that concerned the culinary portion of a camp. Then he produced a
small loin of pork, and, cutting portions from it, soon had them
sizzling over the flames.
"My, what with the smell of these here spruce boughs and that 'ere
pork, it makes a hunter's mouth jest water!" declared Hank, sitting
down to watch Joe, and smoking the pipe which he loved so much. "See
here, youngster, while you're gettin' supper ready I'll collect a few
more logs. There's never any sayin' what sort of weather we may have,
and ef we was short of firin' we'd have to eat cold grub, which ain't
over fanciful, I kin tell you."
By the time he was back in the camp Joe had a number of pieces of pork
cooked, and was fain to admit himself that the smell of cooking them
was most appetizing. Then, as the shades of night drew in, he and
Hank--as strangely an assorted couple as one could well come upon--sat
down in the entrance of their humble shack and, wrapping blankets about
their shoulders, ate their supper, enjoying every mouthful of it as
others cannot do, even your gourmet set before the most recherche meal
that was ever invented; for an active open-air life gives zest to
everything. Your traveller does not complain of the toughness of his
steak or of the weakness of his tea. He is thankful for all that is
set before him, and with appetite sharpened by exercise, and tastes
unspoiled and unpampered by a multiplicity of viands and etceteras,
eats heartily, thankful that there is food to be had, mindful perhaps
of other times when he went hungry.
"Wind's turned," stated Hank, as he rose after supper. "It's got away
round, and we're in for a north-easter. That mostly brings snow, so I
shouldn't wonder ef we was buried nigh the mornin'. That means
snowshoes, and it aer a lucky thing that I brought all the fixings.
There's many as buys their snowshoes. I ain't one of them. Ever sense
I was as high as a table I've made 'em myself. Throw on another log,
Joe, and let's get snug down inside. And jest for a moment have a look
at our shack. You can see that I've faced it so that the opening looks
west and south. Ef there's snow from the north-east it won't enter so
easy, though, in course, there'll be eddies in here amongst the trees,
and some of it'll be blowed in."
Tossing branches on the fire, Joe soon joined his comrade, when the two
wrapped their blankets round them and were quickly asleep; but at
midnight they were awakened by noise without, and crept to the exit of
their shack.
"Blowin' moderate," said Hank, "and my, ain't it snowin'! Lucky
there's a moon. It makes it look as ef the weather wouldn't be
outrageous."
Joe was enchanted when he looked out into the forest. It was his first
real taste of a Canadian winter; for here, besides the cold blast which
whistled amongst the trees, there was snow. Flakes eddied and twirled
everywhere. They came sidling down upon the shack as if afraid to
disturb the campers. They had already formed a white carpet over the
ground, while many a branch was groaning beneath the added weight.
Under the rays of a pale, wintry moon the scene was simply enchanting.
"Beautiful!" declared our hero. "And just fancy being in camp at such
a time! It would make them all sit up and have fits away back in Old
England."
"It'd make men of some of them that needs changin'," grunted Hank.
"You jest wait a tidy bit. This ain't nothing to what we'll get before
we've done with the winter. But let's creep back agin'. It ain't too
warm outside, and reckon the inside of that 'ere shack aer as
comfortable as a feather bed under the roof of a palace."
It was, in fact. Joe's head hardly touched the heaped pillow of twigs
when he fell asleep, and slumbered on, oblivious of the increasing
sounds without and of the silent snowflakes settling overhead.