At the end of a week, when the supply of provisions which the trappers
had brought with them was running low, Shad suggested that he was
quite able to make the journey to the river tilt. His knee was now so
far improved that it caused him but slight inconvenience to walk, and
he was rapidly regaining strength.
He was anxious indeed to return to the tilt. He thought of it much as
one thinks of home; and the thought carried with it visions of rest
and comfort. The others could ill afford a longer absence from their
trails, and it was therefore with a sense of deep satisfaction to all
that the camp on the shore of the Great Lake was broken.
Travelling slowly, with Shad following in the well-packed trail which
the others made, they arrived at their destination on an afternoon
five days later, and were welcomed by Bill Campbell and Mookoomahn.
How deeply or how lightly Mookoomahn felt when he learned of
Manikawan's death, none knew. He listened in stoical silence while Bob
related to him in detail the circumstances of her going and the
subsequent happenings in the lodge and in the camp at the Great Lake;
but throughout the recital Mookoomahn made no comments, and his
countenance betrayed nothing of his sensations.
Mookoomahn was recovering rapidly. He was passing, indeed, quite
beyond Bill Campbell's control; and not satisfied now with the limited
portions of food which Bill, religiously adhering to the advice he had
received from Dick Blake and Ed Matheson, doled out to him, he had the
day before the return of the travellers stolen away to the willows
along the river bank below the tilt, killed some ptarmigans on his own
account, and gorged himself upon the flesh to his temporary
satisfaction; but nature balanced her account with him in the hours of
subsequent agony which he suffered for his indiscretion.
Fully a month elapsed after their return before Shad could eat a meal
with any assurance that it would not be followed by distress. His
normal appetite, however, had begun to return before they broke camp
on the Great Lake, and had quickly developed into a highly abnormal
appetite.
No sooner was one meal finished than his mind was centred upon the
next. At night his last thought was his next morning's breakfast, and
when he awoke breakfast was still on his mind. Eating during this
period of recuperation was to him the all-important object in life.
It was nearly a month after his return to the river tilt that Shad
first learned of Bob's loss of fortune. It was upon the occasion of
the fortnightly rendezvous, when Ed Matheson remarked:
"Th' next round's about th' last we can make. Th' fur's 'most too poor
t' take, now, an' when I comes back I'll strike up my traps. An' it's
been a wonderful poor hunt."
"Aye, wonderful poor, an' wonderful disappointin'," sighed Bob.
"Th' worst I ever see," continued Ed. "If 'tweren't for you, Bob,
clearin' Dick's an' my old debts, we'd be in a bad way gettin' next
fall's debt from th' Company. An' now your losin' all your money, th'
bad furrin' comes hard on you--wonderful hard. I'm fearin' th' new
debt we'll all have t' start off next season with'll be a big un."
"What money did you lose, Bob? I hadn't heard of it," asked Shad, as
Ed passed out of the tilt to join Dick and Bill, who were cleaning the
snow from the roof of the tilt in anticipation of an early thaw.
"Th' money I has in th' bank t' St. Johns," explained Bob. "When Ed
comes back from th' Bay he brings me a letter from Mother sayin' th'
bank broke an' th' money's gone."
"That's bad!" Shad sympathised. "How much was there?"
"About twelve thousand dollars. But 'tain't so bad. We has th' traps,
an' th' new trails laid."
"But that was the capital you were to begin trading on?"
"Aye, but we'll have t' give th' tradin' up now. I'm thinkin' th' Lard
weren't wantin' us t' go tradin' or t' have th' money, an' I'm not
complainin', though I were wonderful disappointed when I hears of un
first."
Shad asked many questions, in the course of which he drew from Bob a
description of the air castles which Bob had been building, and which
had been so unceremoniously knocked down about his ears by his
mother's letter; of the poverty-stricken condition of the Bay folk,
which Bob in his big-hearted and youthful enthusiasm had hoped to
relieve; and of many other things which he had planned to do with his
fortune.
Though all this was of the past, and of little importance now, he had
intended to keep it a secret. But he and Shad had grown very close
together, and somehow Shad had a way of drawing from him even his most
sacred thoughts--and before Bob realised it he had bared his heart to
his friend.
"An' I were thinkin'," said Bob, after the sum-total of his shattered
plans had been disclosed, "when we was up on th' Great Lake, what a
rare fine thing 'twould ha' been for th' Injuns, if I hadn't ha' lost
th' money, t' make a tradin' station an' a cache o' grub up th' other
end o' th' Great Lake--seventy or eighty miles in from where Manikawan
dies--so when another bad year comes th' Injuns down that way could
get grub t' carry un out t' th' Ungava post. If they'd been a cache
there this winter, Manikawan wouldn't ha' died, an' a lot o' th' other
poor Injuns as must ha' died would ha' got out."
"That's so," agreed Shad. "What an amount of suffering it would have
saved! And the poor little Indian girl wouldn't have been sacrificed."
The others returned at this point, and conversation drifted into other
channels--the striking up of the traps--the probability of an early
break-up--the hard times that the present season's failure was certain
to cause among the people of the Bay.
"Bob, if you're going to strike up and make this next trip your last
one of the season, I'm going over the trail with you," said Shad, the
following day. "I want to see again the trail I helped you lay, and
the tilts we built together. It seems a long while ago, and the memory
of it is already a pleasant one."
So on Monday morning they started on the last round of traps for the
season. The days were long now, and the sun was still high when they
reached the tilt on the first lake--the tilt where Manikawan had found
Bob's rifle, and the first of the series of tilts Bob and Shad had
built.
They cooked and ate their supper, and then lounged back upon their
bunks to chat of their first exploration of the trail, their visit to
the falls, and of Manikawan's unexpected appearance when they were on
the island.
Finally they lapsed into silence, Shad sitting on the edge of his
bunk, his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his palms; Bob lying
back, his hands folded under his head, his eyes studying the ceiling,
but his thoughts far away with the loved ones at home and with Emily
at school.
Suddenly Shad broke the silence and Bob's thoughts with the question:
"How would you like me for a partner, Bob?"
"A trappin' partner, Shad? 'Twould be fine, now!" exclaimed Bob,
coming back to himself and his surroundings. "But I was thinkin' you'd
be weary o' th' trails, Shad, after what you've been through."
"No, Bob, a trading partner;" and Shad sat up. "You were going into
business, Bob, but your loss, you tell me, has made it impossible,
because you have no capital. I'd like to be let in on your plans, for
they appeal to me. Such a trading operation as you outlined to me
should prove not only profitable, but at the same time would be a
practical method of relieving a vast amount of suffering. It would
give the Bay people independence and bring them a good many comforts
of life they've never enjoyed.
"And if your suggestion were carried out to establish two or three
trading stations with provision caches attached, up here in the Indian
hunting country, there could be no repetition of this year's horrible
experience.
"Now, Bob, you know the people and their needs, and you're an expert
in judging furs, but you haven't the funds to carry out your plan. I
don't know much about these things, but I have the funds. Let's come
together--your experience and knowledge against my cash--and form a
partnership. What do you say?"
"Oh, Shad! 'Twould be--'twould be th' grandest thing in th' world,
Shad!" and Bob's face flushed with excitement; and then, suddenly, he
continued: "But I couldn't do it, Shad. 'Twouldn't be fair for me t'
be partners, for I hasn't any money t' put in for a share."
"Don't be foolish, now, Bob. Don't talk nonsense. Money without a
knowledge of the people and their needs isn't enough. I haven't the
knowledge, and I'd make a failure of it alone. But with your knowledge
and my money we'd be successful.
"You've said a good many times that things don't happen by chance, but
are brought about by the direction of the Lord; haven't you, Bob?"
asked Shad.
"Aye, 'tis th' Lard brings things t' happen," admitted Bob.
"Now, Bob, listen to me. I came here in the first place just to enjoy
a pleasant summer's outing. Pleasure and good times were all I ever
thought of, and I knew nothing of life or life's higher motives. I
doubt if I could have earned my own bread if I had been turned loose
in the world empty-handed, because I hadn't the power or patience to
stick to a thing or to face discouraging conditions for any length of
time.
"I did not know the meaning of the word toil; I did not know what
privation meant, or the suffering that comes through privation. I had
always had whatsoever my fancy craved, and had never known want or
disappointment.
"Here in your country, Bob, I have experienced toil. I have been tried
out in the furnace fire of physical suffering and mental agony, and I
have learned what sympathy means.
"I am living to-day only because Manikawan, an Indian girl, made it
possible by the sacrifice of her own life for me to live. I'd have
given up and thrown myself down in the snow to die a hundred times but
for the encouragement she gave me to keep going, for I was constantly
possessed of a desire to seek the rest and peace of death. And those
poor Indians shared with me, Bob, the little they had, when they might
easily have left me to perish.
"Do you know, Bob, there has not been a night since she died that I
have not dreamed of Manikawan? She seems to say to me: 'I gave my life
for yours. Go forth and make your life useful--offer a helping hand to
others. It is in your power to guard my people from starvation.' So,
Bob, I've got to do it if I am ever to have peace of mind, and you've
got to help me.
"Do you think that these things just happened, Bob? Or were they
brought about by Divine direction? Don't you think that this
combination of incidents points out to us our life work? Don't you
think they suggest that we are to unite our talents and so use them
that we shall not only help ourselves but help others? Come, Bob, what
do you say?"
For a moment Bob did not speak, and when he did his voice betrayed
deep emotion.
"Th' way you puts un, Shad, I'm thinkin', now, you'm right. 'Tis th'
Lard's way o' bringin' things about. You'm wonderful good, Shad, t'
think o' me for a partner, an' I'll be wonderful proud t' be partners
with you, Shad."
"That's the way to talk, old man!" exclaimed Shad, grasping Bob's
hand.
"I'm not knowin' how t' thank you, Shad," replied Bob, his heart
overflowing.
"That feeling is reciprocated, Bob, so we won't either of us thank the
other. Now we've agreed to our partnership, we'll have plenty of time
to arrange the details of our business before we go to the Bay, and
then I think you'll have to make a trip to St. Johns or Boston with me
to have the co-partnership agreement drawn and executed in proper
legal form."
Shad explained to Bob that at the time of his birth his grandfather
set aside one hundred thousand dollars to be held in trust for his
benefit. It was provided that the income of this trust fund was to be
paid to his guardian annually, upon his birthday, to be applied to his
immediate needs, or to constitute an annual allowance of spending
money, until he attained his majority, when he was to receive the
principal.
"But I've never spent any of Grandfather's allowance," said Shad.
"Father got me everything I needed and kept me supplied with spending
money, and every year when the income from the trust fund came in
Father bought government bonds with it and placed the bonds in a
safety deposit vault for me.
"These bonds amount to more than the principal of the trust fund
now--I don't know just how much, but I know there's considerably more
than one hundred thousand dollars, for they have been earning interest
all these years.
"This money is mine to use as I see fit, and I'm going to invest one
hundred thousand dollars of it in our partnership and hold the balance
as a reserve. Of course my sister will have to act for me until I'm of
age. She's ten years older than I am, and has been my guardian since
Father died. She'll not object, for she has a great deal of confidence
in my judgment.
"When Father died, nearly three years ago, he left me a snug fortune,
and I have plenty to live on even if our trading venture doesn't prove
a money-making business at first."
"'Tis a wonderful lot o' money!" declared Bob. "More'n I can think!"
"We'll need a pretty fair capital to succeed," said Shad. "We'll have
to purchase a vessel of some sort to carry on trade along the outer
coast, and bring our supplies to the Bay, and carry to market our
furs, fish, and oil. You'll look after the native trade, with the men
you employ to help you, but I'll have to engage expert assistance in
purchasing the trading goods and disposing of the products to the best
advantage until I finish college and learn my end of the business. All
will cost money, though I hope when we once get started we'll build up
a trade that will warrant it."
Bob went to his bunk that night with his head all awhirl. The amount
of capital which Shad proposed to put into their partnership, and the
extensive business which he proposed to build up, were too big and too
wonderful for Bob to comprehend all at once.
A substantial structure had indeed taken the place of his tumbled air
castles, though it was long before he could bring himself to realise
that this structure was not, after all, another and greater air castle
than those which had been destroyed.