SCENE OF THE STORY--HISTORY OF ARCHIE AND HUGH--A JOURNEY ACROSS THE
PRAIRIE--A VILLAGE BURNT BY THE INDIANS--UNCLE DONALD PURSUES THE
BLACKFEET--ARRIVAL AT THE INDIAN CAMP.
But where did the scene just described occur? And who were the actors?
Take a map of the world, run your eye over the broad Atlantic, up the
mighty St. Lawrence, across the great lakes of Canada, then along
well-nigh a thousand miles of prairie, until the Rocky Mountains are
reached, beyond which lies British Columbia, a region of lakes, rivers,
and streams, of lofty, rugged, and precipitous heights, the further
shores washed by the Pacific Ocean.
On the bank of one of the many affluents of its chief river--the
Fraser--Uncle Donald had established a location, called Clearwater, far
removed from the haunts of civilised man. In front of the house flowed
the ever-bright current (hence the name of the farm), on the opposite
side of which rose rugged pine-crowned heights; to the left were others
of similar altitude, a sparkling torrent running amid them into the main
stream. Directly behind, extending some way back, was a level prairie,
interspersed with trees and bordered by a forest extending up the sides
of the variously shaped hills; while eastward, when lighted by the rays
of the declining sun, numberless snow-capped peaks, tinged with a
roseate hue, could be seen in the far distance. Horses and cattle fed
on the rich grass of the well-watered meadows, and a few acres brought
under cultivation produced wheat, Indian corn, barley, and oats
sufficient for the wants of the establishment.
Such was the spot which Uncle Donald, who had won the friendship of the
Sushwap tribe inhabiting the district, had some years ago fixed on as
his abode. He had formerly been an officer in the Hudson's Bay Company,
but had, for some reason or other, left their service. Loving the
country in which he had spent the best years of his life, and where he
had met with the most strange and romantic adventures, he had determined
to make it his home. He had not, however, lost all affection for the
land of his birth, or for his relatives and friends, and two years
before the time I speak of he had unexpectedly appeared at the Highland
village from which, when a young man, more than a quarter of a century
before, he had set out to seek his fortune. Many of his relatives and
the friends of his youth were dead, and he seemed, in consequence, to
set greater value on those who remained, who gave him an affectionate
reception. Among them was my mother, his niece, who had been a little
blooming girl when he went away, but was now a staid matron, with a
large family.
My father, Mr Morton, was a minister, but having placed himself under
the directions of a Missionary Society, he was now waiting in London
until it was decided in what part of the world he should commence his
labours among the heathen. My two elder brothers were already out in
the world--one as a surgeon, the other in business--and I had a fancy
for going to sea.
"Let Archie come with me," said Uncle Donald. "I will put him in the
way of doing far better than he ever can knocking about on salt water;
and as for adventures, he'll meet with ten times as many as he would if
he becomes a sailor." He used some other arguments, probably relating
to my future advantage, which I did not hear. They, at all events,
decided my mother; and my father, hearing of the offer, without
hesitation gave his consent to my going. It was arranged, therefore,
that I should accompany Uncle Donald back to his far-off home, of which
he had left his faithful follower, Sandy McTavish, in charge during his
absence.
"I want to have you with me for your own benefit, Archie; but there is
another reason. I have under my care a boy of about your own age, Hugh
McLellan, the son of an old comrade, who died and left him to my charge,
begging me to act the part of a father to him. I have done so hitherto,
and hope to do so as long as I live; you two must be friends. Hugh is a
fine, frank laddie, and you are sure to like one another. As Sandy was
not likely to prove a good tutor to him, I left him at Fort Edmonton
when I came away, and we will call for him as we return."
I must pass over the parting with the dear ones at home, the voyage
across the Atlantic, and the journey through the United States, which
Uncle Donald took from its being in those days the quickest route to the
part of the country for which we were bound.
After descending the Ohio, we ascended the Mississippi to its very
source, several hundred miles, by steamboat; leaving which, we struck
westward, passing the head waters of the Bed River of the north, on
which Fort Garry, the principal post of the Hudson's Bay Company, is
situated, but which Uncle Donald did not wish to visit.
We had purchased good saddle-horses and baggage animals to carry our
goods, and had engaged two men--a French Canadian, Pierre Le Clerc, and
an Irishman, Cornelius Crolly, or "Corney," as he was generally called.
Both men were known to Uncle Donald, and were considered trustworthy
fellows, who would stick by us at a pinch. The route Uncle Donald
proposed taking was looked upon as a dangerous one, but he was so well
acquainted with all the Indian tribes of the north that he believed,
even should we encounter a party of Blackfeet, they would not molest us.
We had been riding over the prairie for some hours, with here and there,
widely scattered, farms seen in the distance, and were approaching the
last frontier settlement, a village or hamlet on the very outskirts of
civilisation, when we caught sight of a column of smoke ascending some
way on directly ahead of us.
"Can it be the prairie on fire?" I asked, with a feeling of alarm; for
I had heard of the fearful way in which prairie fires sometimes extend
for miles and miles, destroying everything in their course.
Uncle Donald stood up in his stirrups that he might obtain a better view
before us.
"No; that's not the smoke of burning grass. It looks more like that
from a building, or may be from more than one. I fear the village
itself is on fire," he answered.
Scarcely had he spoken when several horsemen appeared galloping towards
us, their countenances as they came near exhibiting the utmost terror.
They were passing on, when Uncle Donald shouted out, "Hi! where are you
going? What has happened?" On hearing the question, one of the men
replied, "The Indians have surprised us. They have killed most of our
people, set fire to our houses, and carried off the women and children."
"And you running away without so much as trying to recover them? Shame
upon ye!" exclaimed Uncle Donald. "Come on with me, and let's see what
can be done!"
The men, however, who had scarcely pulled rein, were galloping forward.
Uncle Donald shouted to them to come back, but, terror-stricken, they
continued their course, perhaps mistaking his shouts for the cries of
the Indians.
"We must try and save some of the poor creatures," said Uncle Donald,
turning to our men. "Come on, lads! You are not afraid of a gang of
howling red-skins!" and we rode on, making our baggage horses move much
faster than they were wont to do under ordinary circumstances.
Before reaching the village we came to a clump of trees. Here Uncle
Donald, thinking it prudent not to expose his property to the greedy
eyes of the Indians, should we overtake them, ordered Corney and Pierre
to halt and remain concealed, while he and I rode forward. By the time
we had got up to the hamlet every farm and log-house was burning, and
the greater part reduced to ashes.
No Indians were to be seen. According to their custom, after they had
performed their work they had retreated.
I will pass over the dreadful sights we witnessed. Finding no one alive
to whom we could render assistance, we pushed on, Uncle Donald being
anxious to come up with the enemy before they had put their captives to
death. Though darkness was approaching, we still rode forward.
"It's likely they will move on all night, but, you see, they are loaded,
and we can travel faster than they will. They are sure to camp before
morning, and then we'll get up with them," observed Uncle Donald.
"But what will become of our baggage?" I asked.
"Oh, that will be safe enough. Pierre and Corney will remain where we
left them until we get back," he answered.
I was certain that Uncle Donald knew what he was about, or I should have
been far from easy, I confess.
We went on and on, the Indians keeping ahead of us. From this
circumstance, Uncle Donald was of opinion that they had not taken many
prisoners. At length we came to a stream running northward, bordered by
willows poplars, and other trees. Instead of crossing directly in front
of us, where it was somewhat deep, we kept up along its banks. We had
not got far when we saw the light of a fire, kindled, apparently, at the
bottom of the hollow through which the stream passed.
"If I'm not far wrong, that fire is in the camp of their rear guard.
Their main body cannot be far off," observed Uncle Donald. "Dismount
here, Archie, and you hold the horses behind these trees, while I walk
boldly up to them. They won't disturb themselves much for a single
man."
I dismounted as he desired, and he proceeded toward the fire. I felt
very anxious, for I feared that the Blackfeet might fire and kill him
without stopping to learn who he was.