_ENTERTAINING THE “PACKET” MEN._
During the next few days the sufferers from exposure and travel quickly
recuperated, and in a week all were once again in their accustomed good
health. Kasba had luckily escaped Jack Frost’s most tenacious embrace,
and a few hours had been sufficient to enable her to throw off the
lethargy occasioned by her perilous adventure. David, on the other hand,
had suffered painfully. The parts of his body that had been frozen
became swollen and inflamed to an alarming degree, but as the blood
regained its accustomed circulation the swelling slowly subsided. After
two days of careful nursing the boy had been removed to Delgezie’s hut,
where he had quickly recovered the use of his limbs and elasticity of
spirits, while any fatigue the little dog-driver and his partner might
have felt by their long journey had been entirely shaken off after
several good nights’ rest.
Roy had traded with the few Eskimo encamped at the Fort and sent them
about their business. A large seamless sack, whose sides bulged
alarmingly, standing behind the counter in the trading store, had been
the cynosure of their oblique eyes. This was the damning evidence of
Ocpic’s cupidity, the sack he had filled with goods during the time he
was in possession of Roy’s store key, but had been prevented from
transporting from the premises for some unaccountable reason—probably
some sound had alarmed him and caused him to leave the store post-haste.
The Eskimo spoke among themselves respecting the incident, and from the
fragmentary conversation Roy overheard whilst engaging in trading with
them he gathered that they felt more regret at Ocpic’s failing to take
the goods away than at his behavior. And this was not to be wondered at,
for they were acquainted with Roy only as a man who gave “nothing for
nothing,” while Ocpic was of their own race, and truly blood is thicker
than water.
The trading-store was a small, unpretentious building of undressed
plank. It contained every imaginable commodity likely to be required for
the Eskimo trade: cloth of red and blue, white capotes, blankets, scalpy
knives, dags (snow-knives), pocket-knives, white seed beads, telescopes,
tin and copper kettles of various sizes and a large stock of firearms,
etc. First of all an Eskimo handed his bale of furs over the counter to
Roy, who counted and valued them. Having done this, the trader handed
the native a number of pins (pieces of wood), which the native with
great deliberation arranged upon the counter, first in tens, then into
little piles according to how much he wanted to buy of any one article.
Each of these pieces of wood represented a “skin,” or, as it is
sometimes called, a “made beaver,” the standard valuation by which trade
is carried on between the Hudson’s Bay Company and the natives in that
northern country. Having selected an article valued at, say, eight
skins, the native handed over eight of his pieces of wood in exchange,
and continued this method of doing business till all were gone.
As each native finished his bartering he fell out of the gang which
thronged before the counter, and retired to the particular _iglo_ he
inhabited to gloat over his purchases. After untying the bundle which he
had tied up in the store with such security as to lead one to imagine
that he never again intended to unloose it, he took each purchase in
hand separately, felt the edges of the knives, admired their workmanship
and shape, closely scrutinized the large tin kettles and went into
raptures over their shining brightness.
The trading done and the Eskimo away from the Fort, Roy gave his
attention to the accounts and letters he wished to send by the return
“packet.” The packet-train’s stay at Fort Future was limited to one week
by the hard-and-fast rules governing the Company’s “packets,” and Roy’s
search for Kasba and his trading with the natives had occupied several
days of this time, but at an isolated post like Fort Future the official
correspondence was not heavy and he was easily able to accomplish that
part of his duties in due season. The work of writing his private
letters, however, was more protracted. It was only in the evenings,
after the loquacious Broom had retired, that Roy could apply himself to
these. But by continuing his labors into the small hours of the morning
he arose from the table on the last day of the allotted time with his
work completed.
With the “packet” off his mind, Roy turned his thoughts to giving
Hopkins and his companion a good send-off, and accordingly he arranged
for a dance to take place that evening. Sahanderry was told to make a
large supply of raisin cakes and to coax his dilapidated fiddle into
tune. And the delighted Indian proceeded to carry out these orders with
much jubilation. Soon little squares of dough, spotted with raisins, lay
on top of the stove, and the pleasant smell of newly-cooked cakes filled
the house all morning. During the afternoon the Indian brought out his
fiddle and started to tune it. At this Broom uttered fearful
imprecations and threatened to throw various objects at the fiddler’s
head, but Roy, greatly amused, allowed Sahanderry to go on with his
tuning, and the Indian continued the nerve-racking process with
diabolical ingenuity.
As soon as supper was over, Sahanderry and Hopkins prepared the kitchen
for the coming ball, and when everything was in readiness and the guests
assembled Roy was apprised of the fact. There was a short delay
occasioned by Broom, who at the last moment decided to groom his hair
and unkempt whiskers, then the trader and his companion put in an
appearance.
Kasba’s face at once filled with delight. She had not forgotten the
caress she had received from Bekothrie; her lips where his had pressed
them tingled still. And when he stood up for the first dance with her,
thereby elating her into a seventh heaven of happiness, the crimson flew
to her cheeks and brow. She tossed her head and smiled very prettily,
her heart glowing in her eyes, and I must confess she clung to his hand,
as they went through the figure dances, a good deal longer than was
necessary; also, I may as well tell you at once, she put up her lips,
when she bade him good-night, standing on tip-toe that she might reach
his face. He received her salute with a little laugh of embarrassment,
and in truth was too much worried over what she had done to allow of his
sleeping after he turned in.
Kasba was the only woman present at this singular entertainment, but the
absence of lady partners seemed in no wise to detract from the jollity
of the evening. Hopkins, Poo-koo and David faced Broom, Delgezie and
Minnihak, while Roy had Kasba for partner, as we have just described,
and jigs, country dances, figures of eight, duck dances and rabbit
dances were one and all performed with commendable spirit. There was a
little confusion in the set dances caused by an occasional mix-up of
partners or a dancer jigging alone down the perspective, but these
mistakes only added to the fun of the evening.
At first solemnity and much perspiration marked these performances, but
as pint after pint of “sugar beer” was swallowed by the thirsty dancers,
their solemnity wore away, a gayer humor prevailed and some most
intricate steps were ventured upon and accomplished with more or less
success by the juvenile members of the party.
As the evening progressed, Broom suddenly burst into a song, much to
Roy’s astonishment, for the sailor had often declared himself incapable
of singing a note. The comic expression of Broom’s face created much
amusement, and when he ended his performance by shuffling a few steps
after the orthodox manner of the music-hall artists the delight of his
audience knew no bounds, and the fun waxed fast and furious till the
clock pointed to the hour of midnight. At the striking of the hour, Roy
shook hands with all present, and then, led by Broom, three cheers were
given for “the master,” and the party quickly dissolved.
Despite their terpsichorean efforts of the previous evening they were
all up betimes next morning. Even Broom arose much before his wonted
hour to see the packet men start on their return journey.
“Well, good luck, George!” cried Roy, grasping the little dog-driver by
the hand. “May you have a good trip!”
“Thank you, sir,” returned the little man, who hastily proceeded to
shake hands with all within sight, which act of courtesy was closely
imitated by Poo-koo. And while it was yet dark the packet-train started
on its hazardous journey south. The dogs, greatly refreshed by their
rest, bounded after the rapidly disappearing Eskimo in front, who,
unlike most of his race, was a good and fast walker, and the last link
to the outside world was quickly swallowed up in the gloom of the early
morning.
With an unconscious sigh of regret Roy turned to go indoors. To be sure
Churchill was as much out of the world as Fort Future, but there were
more people—possibly a dozen—and four mails a year there. Four mails a
year looked good to Roy. Truly all things are judged by comparison.
Roy’s naturally buoyant spirits seemed to have departed with the packet
and he appeared dull and listless, remaining preoccupied during the
whole of breakfast, and returning only monosyllabic answers to Broom’s
airy remarks. The interesting occupation of letter-writing gone, there
seemed nothing to occupy his mind, and it was with something of an
effort that he forced himself to take up the old monotonous life and to
revive the interest he had hitherto felt in his work. But these
feelings, this hankering after the unattainable, was soon dispersed by
his strong will, and he was again the zealous officer the Company had
ever found him. He was inwardly longing for the time when the ice would
be out of the river, and Chief Factor McCall would arrive on his trip of
inspection, and the knowledge that Lena was to accompany her father only
made the enforced wait the more exasperating. But Roy knew from bitter
experience that the only way to make time fly was to be fully occupied,
and he therefore decided to make a trip to the camp of his Eskimo trader
Acpa.