During the absence of my friend everything went on at the fort in the
usual quiet way, with this difference, that part of our educational
course had to be given up, and I had to read the Pilgrim's Progress
instead of my friend, for the men had become so deeply interested in the
adventures of Christian that they begged of me to continue the readings.
This I agreed to do, but confined myself simply to reading. I observed,
however, that my audience did not seem to appreciate the story as much
as before, and was getting somewhat disheartened about it, when one
evening, as I was about to begin, Donald Bane said to me--
"If ye please, sur, the other laads an' me's been talking over this
matter, an' they want me to say that they would pe fery much obleeged if
ye would expound the story as you go along, the same as Muster Lumley
did."
This speech both surprised and embarrassed me, for I had never before
attempted anything in the way of exposition. I felt, however, that it
would never do for a man in charge of an outpost in the Great Nor'-West
to exhibit weakness on any point, whatever he might feel; I therefore
resolved to comply.
"Well, Donald Bane," I said, "it had been my intention to leave the
exposition of the allegory to Mr Lumley, but as you all wish me to
carry on that part of the reading I will do my best."
So saying, I plunged at once into the story, and got on much more easily
than I had expected; ideas and words flowing into my mind copiously,
insomuch that I found it difficult to stop, and on more than one
occasion was awakened by a snore from one of the audience, to the fact
that I had sent some of them to sleep.
In the midst of this pleasant, and I hope not unprofitable, work, an
event occurred which had well-nigh stopped my commentaries on the
Pilgrim's Progress, and put an end to my career altogether.
I had gone out one morning with my gun to procure a few fresh ptarmigan,
accompanied by Big Otter. Our trusty Indian was beginning by that time
to understand the English language, but he would not condescend to speak
it. This, however, was of slight importance, as I had learned to jabber
fluently in the native tongue.
We speedily half-filled the large game-bag which the Indian carried.
"I think we'll go into the thicker woods now," said I, "and try for some
tree grouse by way of variety."
Big Otter gave a mild grunt of assent. He was not naturally given to
much talking, and, being amiable, was always ready to conform to any
plan without discussion, unless expressly asked. Indeed, even when
expressly asked, it was not always possible to get a satisfactory answer
out of him.
"Do you think we should go up the Dark Valley, or over the Rocky Knoll,"
said I, referring to two well-known spots a considerable distance from
the fort.
"The pale-face chief knows best."
"Yes, but the pale-face asks what the red-face thinks," said I, somewhat
amused by the answer.
"He thinks that there are grouse in the Dark Valley, and also in the
lands towards the setting sun over the Rocky Knoll."
"If I were to ask you, Big Otter, which of the two directions you would
like to take, what would you reply?"
"I would reply, `The direction that best pleases the pale-face chief.'"
"Now, Big Otter," said I, firmly, for I was determined to get an answer
out of him, "in which of the two paths are we most likely to find the
greatest number of birds?"
"Assuredly in the path which shall be chosen by the pale-face. Is he
not a great hunter? Does he not know the land?"
I gave in with a short laugh, and, turning, led the way over the Rocky
Knoll into the dense forest at the back of the fort. Passing through a
belt of this, we came upon more open ground, where the trees grew in
clumps, with willow-covered spaces between. Beyond that we re-entered
the thick woods, and at once set up a covey of the birds we were in
search of. There were six of them, and they all perched on a
neighbouring tree.
Now it is sometimes the case that the birds of which I write are so tame
that they will sit still on a tree till they are all shot, one by one,
if only the hunter is careful to fire at the lowest bird first, and so
proceed upwards. If he should kill the top bird first, its fluttering
fall disturbs the rest, causing them to take wing. Fully aware of this
fact, Big Otter and I fired alternate shots, and in a few seconds
brought down the whole covey. This quite filled one of our bags.
"You may take it home, Big Otter," said I, "and tell them not to be
alarmed if I don't return till to-morrow. Perhaps I shall camp out."
With his usual quiet grunt of acquiescence my red-skinned companion
shouldered the full bag, and left me. I then struck into the thick
woods, with the general bearings of which I was well acquainted, and
soon after came across the fresh tracks of a deer, which I followed up
hotly.
I am naturally a keen sportsman, and apt to forget both time and
distance when pursuing game. As to distance, however, a backwoods
hunter who intends to encamp on the spot where night finds him, does not
need to concern himself much about that. I therefore plodded on, hour
after hour, until the waning light told of the approach of darkness, and
convinced me that further pursuit would be useless.
Looking round me then, for a suitable spot on which to make my
encampment, I experienced almost a shock of surprise, not unmingled with
alarm, on making the discovery that I had forgotten to bring my
fire-bag!
To some people the serious nature of this may not at first be apparent.
But they may appreciate the situation in some degree when I tell them
that on that occasion I suddenly found myself about twenty miles from
home, fatigued, hungry, with the night descending over the wilderness,
the thermometer about thirty-five below zero, of Fahrenheit's scale,
with the snow for my bed, and without that all important flint, steel
and tinder, wherewith to procure fire for the cooking of my food and the
warming of my frame!
It is true I had my gun, which was a flint one, so that by rubbing some
slightly moistened gunpowder on a piece of rag, which I tore from my
shirt for the purpose, and snapping the lock over it there was a
possibility of a spark catching, but unfortunately the flint was a much
worn one which I had chipped away to such an extent during the day, to
improve its fire-producing powers, that only the merest glimmer of a
spark was evolved after many snappings, and it was so feeble as to be
quite unable to catch hold of my extemporised tinder. After prolonged
and fruitless efforts the intense cold began to chill me, and being well
aware of the great danger of getting benumbed, or of falling into that
torpid state of indifference to life, coupled with intense desire for
rest which precedes death from cold, I made up my mind at once, tired
and hungry though I was, to turn round and walk straight back to the
fort.
I knew myself to be quite capable of walking forty miles on snow-shoes
in ordinary circumstances. My being tired and the darkness of night,
were against me, but what of that? it would only require me to brace
myself to a severer task than usual!
I had not gone many miles, however, on the return journey, when a doubt
occurred as to whether I was taking the right direction. In the
confidence of my knowledge of the country I had carelessly left my old
track, which was indeed rather a devious one, and had struck what I
believed to be a straight line for the fort. It was by that time too
late to retrace my steps and too dark to distinguish the features of the
landscape. I stopped for a minute to think, and as I did so the
profound oppressive silence of the night, the weird pallid aspect of the
scarce visible snow, and the dark pines around me, which were only a
shade or two darker than the black sky above, together with the
ever-increasing cold, made such an impression on my mind that the
prayer, "God help me!" burst almost involuntarily from my lips.
Feeling that delay surely meant death, I started off again with
redoubled energy, and this impulse of determination, along with the
exercise, increased my temperature somewhat, so that hope became strong
again, and with it muscular energy.
Suddenly I came upon a snow-shoe track. I went down on my knees to
examine it, but the light was insufficient to make it out clearly. What
would I not have given for a match at that moment! However, as the size
of the shoe-print seemed to my _feeling_ the same with that of the shoe
I wore, I concluded that it must certainly be my own track out from
home--all the more that it ran almost parallel with the line I was
following.
Getting upon it then, I stepped out with much greater ease and with a
lighter heart.
After a time the track led me to a slightly open space where the light
was better. I thought that objects seemed familiar to me as I looked
round. Advancing, I came on a spot where the snow was much trodden
down. There was a bank of snow near. I went towards it while a
terrible suspicion flashed into my mind. Yes, it was the very spot on
which I had been sitting hours before, while I was making fruitless
efforts to obtain a light from the flint of my gun! I had been doing
that of which I had often read and heard, walking unwittingly in a
circle, and had actually come back to the spot from which I set out.
What my feelings were on making this discovery it is scarcely possible
to describe. My first act was to look up and exclaim as before, "God
help me!" But there was nothing impulsive or involuntary in the prayer
this time. I fully realised the extent of my danger, and, believing
that the hour had come when nothing could save my life but the direct
interposition of my Creator, I turned to Him with all the fervour of my
heart.
At the same time I am bound to confess that my faith was very weak, and
my soul felt that solemn alarm which probably the bravest feel at the
approach of death, when that approach is sudden and very unexpected.
Nevertheless, I am thankful to say that my powers of judgment and of
action did not forsake me. I knew that it would be folly to attempt to
follow my track back again through the intricacies of the forest in so
dark a night, especially now that the track was partly mingled and
confused with that which I had made in joining it. I also knew that to
give way to despair, and lie down without a fire or food, would be to
seal my own doom. Only one course remained, and that was to keep
constantly moving until the return of day should enable me to
distinguish surrounding objects more clearly.
I went to work therefore without delay, but before doing so once again
solemnly and earnestly committed my soul and body to the care of God.
And, truly, the circumstances of my case intensified that prayer. I
felt as if I had never really prayed in earnest in my life before that
night.
Then, laying aside my gun, blanket and cooking utensils, so as to
commence my task as light as possible, I went to the most open space of
ground I could find, and there described a large circle with my
snow-shoes on. This was the track on which I resolved to perform a feat
of endurance. To walk all night without intermission, without rest, so
as to keep up my animal heat was the effort, on the success of which
depended the issue of life or death.
I began with that vigour which is born of hopeful determination to
succeed or die. But, as time wore on, the increasing weakness and
exhaustion began to render me less capable of enduring the intense cold.
Having my wallet on my back I took out some biscuit and pemmican and
ate it as I walked. This revived me a good deal, nevertheless I
restrained myself, feeling convinced that nothing but steady, quiet
perseverance would carry me through. Soon thirst began to torment me,
yet I did not dare to eat snow, as that would have merely injured the
inside of my mouth, and frozen the skin of my lips. This feeling did
not however last long. It was followed by a powerful sense of
drowsiness.
This I knew to be the fatal premonitory symptom, and strove against it
with all my power. The better to resist it I began to talk aloud to
myself.
"Come now, my boy, you mustn't give way to _that_. It is death, you
know. Hold up! Be a man! Act as Lumley would have acted in similar
circumstances. Dear Lumley! How he would run to help me if he only
knew!"
Suddenly the words, "In Me is thy help," seemed to sound in my very
ears. I stopped to listen, and was partly roused, but soon hurried on
again.
"Yes, yes," I exclaimed aloud, "I know the text well," but the words had
scarcely left my lips when I stumbled and fell. Owing to my sinking
powers I had failed to keep the centre of the track; my right snow-shoe
had caught on the edge of it and tumbled me into the soft snow.
How shall I describe the delicious feeling of profound rest that ensued
when I found myself prone and motionless? Equally impossible is it to
describe the agonising struggles that I made to induce my unwilling
spirit to rouse my listless body. Those who have striven in
semi-consciousness to throw off the awful lethargy of nightmare may have
some conception of my feelings. I knew, even then, that it was the
critical moment--the beginning of the end. In a burst of anxiety I
began to pray--to shout with all my strength--for deliverance. The
effort and the strange sound of my own voice roused me.
I staggered to my feet and was able to continue my walk. Being somewhat
brighter than I had been before the tumble, I perceived that the
circular track was by that time beaten hard enough to bear me up without
snow-shoes, so I put them off and walked with much more ease.
From this point however my mind became so confused that I can give no
reliable account of what followed. I was conscious at various periods
during that dreadful night of becoming alive to several incidents and
states of mind. I recollect falling more than once, as I had fallen
before, and of experiencing, more than once, that painful struggle
against what I may style mental and physical inertia. I remember
breaking out frequently into loud importunate prayer, and being
impressed with a feeling of reviving energy at such times. Sometimes a
text of Scripture seemed to flash before my eyes and disappear. On
these occasions I made terrible efforts to grasp the text, and have an
indistinct sensation of increased strength resulting from the mere
efforts, but most of the texts faded as quickly as they came, with the
exception of one--"God is our Hope." Somehow I seemed to lay firm hold
of that, and to feel conscious of holding it, even when sense was
slipping away, but of the blanks between those conditions I know
nothing. They may have been long or they may have been short--I cannot
tell. All remains on my memory now like the unsubstantial fragments of
a hideous dream.
The first thing after that which impressed itself on me with anything
like the distinctness of reality was the sound of a crackling fire,
accompanied with the sensation of warmth in my throat. Slowly opening
my eyes I became aware of the fact that I was lying in front of a
blazing fire, surrounded by Big Otter, Blondin, and Dougall, who stood
gazing at me with anxious looks, while Henri Coppet knelt at my side,
attempting to pour some warm tea down my throat.
"Dere now, monsieur," said Coppet, who was rather fond of airing his
English, especially when excited, "Yoos kom too ver queek. Ony drink.
Ha! dere be noting like tea."
"Wow! man, mind what yer aboot. Ye'll scald him," said Dougall,
anxiously.
"You hole yoos tongue," replied the carpenter contemptuously, "me knows
w'at mees do. Don' wants no Scoshmans for tell me. _Voila_! Monsieur
have swaller _un peu_!"
This was true. I had not only swallowed, but nearly choked with a
tendency to laugh at the lugubrious expression of my friends' faces.
"Where am I?" said I, on recovering a little, "What has happened?"
"Oo ay, Muster Maxby," answered Dougall, with his wonted nasal drawl;
"somethin' _hess_ happened, but it's no sae pad as what _might_ hev
happened, whatever."
As this did not tend to clear my mind much, and as I knew from
experience that the worthy Celt refused to be hurried in his
communications, I turned an inquiring look on Blondin, who at once said
in French--
"Monsieur has been lost and nearly frozen, and Monsieur would surely
have been quite frozen if James Dougall had not discovered that Monsieur
had left his fire-bag at home, by mistake no doubt; we at once set out
to search for Monsieur, and we found him with his head in the snow and
his feet in the air. At first we thought that Monsieur was dead, but
happily he was not, so we kindled a fire and rubbed Monsieur, and gave
him hot tea, which has revived him. _Voila_! Perhaps Monsieur will
take a little more hot tea?"
While Blondin was speaking, the whole scene of the previous day and of
the terrible night rushed in upon my brain like a flood, and I thanked
God fervently for my deliverance, while I complied with the man's
suggestion and sipped some more tea.
It revived me much, but on attempting to rise I found myself so weak
that I fell back helplessly with a deep sigh.
"Ye've no need to trouble yoursel', Muster Maxby," said Dougall, "we've
brought the new dowg-sleigh for 'ee."
Looking in the direction in which he pointed, I observed not far-off the
splendid new dog-sleigh which we had spent much time in making and
painting that winter. Our fine team of four semi-wolf dogs, gay with
embroidered harness as they lay curled up on the snow, were attached to
it.
"I suspect I should have died but for your thoughtful care, Dougall," I
said, gratefully, as the good fellow assisted to place me in the vehicle
and wrap the buffalo robes around me.
"Hoots! Muster Maxby," was the remonstrative reply.
Big Otter placed himself in front of the _cortege_ to beat the track.
The dogs followed him with the sleigh-bells ringing merrily. Blondin
took hold of the tail-line, and the others brought up the rear.
Thus comfortably, with a bright sun shining in the blue sky, I returned
to Fort Wichikagan.