"Oh for a lodge in the vast wilderness,
The boundless contiguity of shade!"
A fortnight had now passed, and Catharine still suffered so much from
pain and fever that they were unable to continue their wanderings; all
that Hector and his cousin could do was to carry her to the bower by
the lake, where she reclined whilst they caught fish. The painful
longing to regain their lost home had lost nothing of its intensity;
and often would the poor sufferer start from her bed of leaves and
boughs to wring her hands and weep, and call in piteous tones upon
that dear father and mother who would have given worlds, had they been
at their command, to have heard but one accent of her beloved voice,
to have felt one loving pressure from that fevered hand. Hope, the
consoler, hovered over the path of the young wanderers, long after she
had ceased to whisper comfort to the desolate hearts of the mournful
parents.
Of all that suffered by this sad calamity, no one was more to be
pitied than Louis Perron. Deeply did the poor boy lament the
thoughtless folly which had involved his cousin Catharine in so
terrible a misfortune. "If Kate had not been with me," he would say,
"we should not have been lost; for Hector is so cautious and so
careful, he would not have left the cattle-path. But we were so
heedless, we thought only of flowers and insects, of birds and such
trifles, and paid no heed to our way." Louis Perron, such is life. The
young press gaily onward, gathering the flowers, and following the gay
butterflies that attract them in the form of pleasure and amusement:
they forget the grave counsels of the thoughtful, till they find the
path they have followed is beset with briers and thorns; and a
thousand painful difficulties that were unseen, unexpected, overwhelm
and bring them to a sad sense of their own folly; and, perhaps, the
punishment of their errors does not fall upon themselves alone, but
upon the innocent, who have unknowingly been made participators in
their fault.
By the kindest and tenderest attention to all her comforts, Louis
endeavoured to alleviate his cousin's sufferings, and soften her
regrets; nay, he would often speak cheerfully and even gaily to her,
when his own heart was heavy and his eyes ready to overflow with
tears.
"If it were not for our dear parents and the dear children at home,"
he would say, "we might spend our time most happily upon these
charming plains; it is much more delightful here than in the dark,
thick woods; see how brightly the sunbeams come down and gladden the
ground, and cover the earth with fruit and flowers. It is pleasant to
be able to fish and hunt, and trap the game. Yes, if they were all
here, we would build us a nice log-house, and clear up these bushes on
the flat near the lake. This 'Elfin Knowe,' as you call it, Kate,
would be a nice spot to build upon. See these glorious old oaks--not
one should be cut down; and we would have a boat and a canoe, and
voyage across to yonder islands. Would it not be charming, ma belle?"
and Catharine, smiling at the picture drawn so eloquently, would enter
into the spirit of the project, and say,--
"Ah! Louis, that would be pleasant."
"If we had but my father's rifle now," said Hector, "and old Wolfe."
"Yes, and Fanchette, dear little Fanchette, that trees the partridges
and black squirrels," said Louis.
"I saw a doe and a half-grown fawn beside her this very morning, at
break of day," said Hector. "The fawn was so little fearful, that if I
had had a stick in my hand I could have killed it. I came within ten
yards of the spot where it stood. I know it would be easy to catch one
by making a dead-fall." A sort of trap in which game is taken in the
woods, or on the banks of creeks.
"If we had but a dear fawn to frolic about us, like Mignon, dear
innocent Mignon," cried Catharine, "I should never feel lonely then."
"And we should never want for meat, if we could catch a fine fawn from
time to time, ma belle.--Hec, what are you thinking of?"
"I was thinking, Louis, that if we were doomed to remain here all our
lives, we must build a house for ourselves; we could not live in the
open air without shelter as we have done. The summer will soon pass,
and the rainy season will come, and the bitter frosts and snows of
winter will have to be provided against."
"But, Hector, do you really think there is no chance of finding our
way back to Cold Springs? We know it must be behind this lake," said
Lotus.
"True, but whether east, west, or south, we cannot tell, and whichever
way we take now is but a chance; and if once we leave the lake and get
involved in the mazes of that dark forest, we should perish: for we
know there is neither water nor fruit nor game to be had as there is
here, and we might soon be starved to death. God was good who led us
beside this fine lake, and upon these fruitful plains."
"It is a good thing that I had my axe when we started from home," said
Hector. "We should not have been so well off without it; we shall find
the use of it if we have to build a house. We must look out for some
spot where there is a spring of good water, and--"
"No horrible wolves," interrupted Catharine. "Though I love this
pretty ravine, and the banks and braes about us, I do not think I
shall like to stay here. I heard the wolves only last night, when you
and Louis were asleep."
"We must not forget to keep watch-fires."
"What shall we do for clothes?" said Catharine, glancing at her
home-spun frock of wool and cotton plaid.
"A weighty consideration indeed," sighed Hector; "clothes must be
provided before ours are worn out and the winter comes on."
"We must save all the skins of the woodchucks and squirrels,"
suggested Louis; "and fawns when we catch them."
"Yes, and fawns when we get them," added Hector; "but it is time
enough to think of all these things; we must not give up all hope of
home."
"I give up all hope? I shall hope on while I have life," said
Catharine. "My dear, dear father, he will never forget his lost
children; he will try and find us, alive or dead; he will never give
up the search."
Poor child, how long did this hope burn like a living torch in thy
guileless breast. How often, as they roamed those hills and valleys,
were thine eyes sent into the gloomy recesses of the dark ravines and
thick bushes, with the hope that they would meet the advancing form
and outstretched arms of thy earthly parents: all in vain. Yet the
arms of thy heavenly Father were extended over thee, to guide, to
guard, and to sustain thee.
How often were Catharine's hands filled with wild-flowers, to carry
home, as she fondly said, to sick Louise or her mother. Poor
Catharine, how often did your bouquets fade; how often did the sad
exile water them with her tears,--for hers was the hope that keeps
alive despair.
When they roused them in the morning to recommence their fruitless
wanderings, they would say to each other, "Perhaps we shall see our
father, he may find us here to-day;" but evening came, and still he
came not, and they were no nearer to their father's home than they had
been the day previous.
"If we could but find our way back to the 'Cold Creek,' we might, by
following its course, return to Cold Springs," said Hector.
"I doubt much the fact of the 'Cold Creek' having any connection with
our Spring," said Louis; "I think it has its rise in the Beaver
Meadow, and following its course would only entangle us among those
wolfish balsam and cedar swamps, or lead us yet further astray into
the thick recesses of the pine forest. For my part, I believe we are
already fifty miles from Cold Springs."
Persons who lose their way in the pathless woods have no idea of
distance, or the points of the compass, unless they can see the sun
rise and set, which it is not possible to do when surrounded by the
dense growth of forest-trees; they rather measure distance by the time
they have been wandering, than by any other token.
The children knew that they had been a long time absent from home,
wandering hither and thither and they fancied their journey had been
as long as it had been weary. They had indeed the comfort of seeing
the sun in its course from east to west, but they knew not in what
direction the home they had lost lay; it was this that troubled them
in their choice of the course they should take each day, and at last
determined them to lose no more time so fruitlessly, where the peril
was so great, but seek for some pleasant spot where they might pass
their time in safety, and provide for their present and future wants.
"The world was all before them, where to choose
Their place of rest, and Providence their guide."
Catharine declared her ankle was so much stronger than it had been
since the accident, and her health so much amended, that the day after
the conversation just recorded, the little party bade farewell to the
valley of the "Big Stone," and ascending the steep sides of the hills,
bent their steps eastward, keeping the lake to their left hand. Hector
led the way, loaded with the axe, which he would trust to no one but
himself, the tin-pot, and the birch basket. Louis had to assist his
cousin up the steep banks, likewise some fish to carry, which had been
caught early in the morning.
The wanderers thought at first to explore the ground near the lake
shore, but soon abandoned this resolution on finding the undergrowth
of trees and bushes become so thick that they made little progress,
and the fatigue of travelling was greatly increased by having
continually to put aside the bushes or bend them down.
Hector advised trying the higher ground; and after following a
deer-path through a small ravine that crossed the hills, they found
themselves on a fine extent of table-land, richly but not too densely
wooded with white and black oaks (_Quercus alba_, and _Quercus
nigra_), diversified with here and there a solitary pine, which
reared its straight and pillar-like trunk in stately grandeur above
its leafy companions; a meet eyrie for the bald eagle, that kept watch
from its dark crest over the silent waters of the lake, spread below
like a silver zone studded with emeralds.
In their progress they passed the head of many small ravines, which
divided the hilly shores of the lake into deep furrows: these furrows
had once been channels by which the waters of some upper lake (the
site of which is now dry land) had at a former period poured down into
the valley, filling the basin of what now is called the Rice Lake.
These waters, with resistless sweep, had ploughed their way between
the hills, bearing in their course those blocks of granite and
limestone which are so widely scattered both on the hill-tops and the
plains, or form a rocky pavement at the bottom of the narrow defiles.
What a sight of sublime desolation must that outpouring of the waters
have presented, when those deep banks were riven by the sweeping
torrents that were loosened from their former bounds! The pleased eye
rests upon these tranquil shores, now covered with oaks and pines, or
waving with a flood of golden grain, or varied by neat dwellings and
fruitful gardens; and the gazer on that peaceful scene scarcely
pictures to himself what it must have been when no living eye was
there to mark the rushing floods when they scooped to themselves the
deep bed in which they now repose.
Those lovely islands that sit like stately crowns upon the waters were
doubtless the wreck that remained of the valley; elevated spots, whose
rocky bases withstood the force of the rushing waters, that carried
away the lighter portions of the soil. The southern shore, seen from
the lake, seems to lie in regular ridges running from south to north:
some few are parallel with the lake shore, possibly where some
insurmountable impediment turned the current of the subsiding waters;
but they all find an outlet through their connection with ravines
communicating with the lake.
There is a beautiful level tract of land; with only here and there a
solitary oak or a few stately pines growing upon it; it is commonly
called the "Upper Race-course," on account of the smoothness of the
surface. It forms a high table-land, nearly three hundred feet above
the lake, and is surrounded by high hills. This spot, though now dry
and covered with turf and flowers, and low bushes, has evidently once
been a broad sheet of water. To the eastward lies a still more lovely
and attractive spot, known as the "Lower Race-course." It lies on a
lower level than the former one, and, like it, is embanked by a ridge
of distant hills. Both have ravines leading down to the Rice Lake, and
may have been the sources from whence its channel was filled. Some
convulsion of nature at a remote period, by raising the waters above
their natural level, might have caused a disruption of the banks, and
drained their beds, as they now appear ready for the ploughshare or
the spade. In the month of June these flats are brilliant with the
splendid blossoms of the _Castilegia coccinea_, or painted-cup, the
azure lupine (_Lupinus perennis_), and snowy _Trillium_; dwarf roses
(_Rosa blanda_) scent the evening air, and grow as if planted by the
hand of taste.
A carpeting of the small downy saxifrage (_Saxifraga nivalis_), with
its white silky leaves, covers the ground in early spring. In autumn
it is red with the bright berries and dark box-shaped leaves of a
species of creeping winter-green, that the Indians call spice-berry
(_Gaultheria procumbens_); the leaves are highly aromatic, and it is
medicinal as well as agreeable to the taste and smell. In the month of
July a gorgeous assemblage of orange lilies (_Lilium Philadelphicum_)
take the place of the lupine and trilliums: these splendid lilies vary
from orange to the brightest scarlet. Various species of sunflowers
and coreopsis next appear, and elegant white _pyrolas_ [Footnote:
Indian bean, also called Indian potato (_Apios tuberosa_).] scent the
air and charm the eye. The delicate lilac and white shrubby asters
next appear; and these are followed by the large deep-blue gentian,
and here and there by the elegant fringed gentian. [Footnote: Gentiana
linearis, G. crenata.] These are the latest and loveliest of the
flowers that adorn this tract of land. It is indeed a garden of
nature's own planting, but the wild garden is being converted into
fields of grain, and the wild flowers give place to a new race of
vegetables, less ornamental, but more useful to man and the races of
domestic animals that depend upon him for their support.
Our travellers, after wandering over this lovely plain, found
themselves, at the close of the day, at the head of a fine ravine,
[Footnote: Kilvert's Ravine, above Pine-tree Point.] where they had
the good fortune to perceive a spring of pure water oozing beneath
some large moss-covered blocks of black waterworn granite. The ground
was thickly covered with moss about the edges of the spring, and many
varieties of flowering shrubs and fruits were scattered along the
valley and up the steep sides of the surrounding hills. There were
whortleberries, or huckleberries, as they are more usually called, in
abundance; bilberries dead ripe, and falling from the bushes at a
touch. The vines that wreathed the low bushes and climbed the trees
were loaded with clusters of grapes; but these were yet hard and
green. Dwarf filberts grew on the dry gravelly sides of the hills, yet
the rough prickly calyx that enclosed the nut filled their fingers
with minute thorns that irritated the skin like the stings of the
nettle; but as the kernel, when ripe, was sweet and good, they did not
mind the consequences. The moist part of the valley was occupied by a
large bed of May-apples, [Footnote: _Podophyllum peltatum_,--mandrake,
or May-apple.] the fruit of which was of unusual size, but they were
not ripe, August being the month when they ripen; there were also wild
plums still green, and wild cherries and blackberries ripening. There
were great numbers of the woodchucks' burrows on the hills; wild
partridges and quails were seen under the thick covert of the
blue-berried dog-wood, [Footnote: _Cornus sericea_. The blue berries
of this shrub are eaten by the partridge and wild ducks; also by the
pigeons, and other birds. There are several species of this shrub
common to the Rice Lake.] that here grew in abundance at the mouth of
the ravine where it opened to the lake. As this spot offered many
advantages, our travellers halted for the night, and resolved to make
it their headquarters for a season, till they should meet with an
eligible situation for building a winter shelter.
Here, then, at the head of the valley, sheltered by one of the rounded
hills that formed its sides, our young people erected a summer hut,
somewhat after the fashion of an Indian wigwam, which was all the
shelter that was requisite while the weather remained so warm. Through
the opening at the gorge of this ravine they enjoyed a peep at the
distant waters of the lake, which terminated the vista, while they
were quite removed from its unwholesome vapours.
The temperature of the air for some days had been hot and sultry,
scarcely modified by the cool, delicious breeze that usually sets in
about nine o'clock and blows most refreshingly till four or five in
the afternoon. Hector and Louis had gone down to fish for supper,
while Catharine busied herself in collecting leaves and dried
deer-grass, moss and fern, of which there was abundance near the
spring. The boys had promised to cut some fresh cedar boughs near the
lake shore, and bring them up to form a foundation for their beds, and
also to strew Indian-fashion over the floor of the hut by way of a
carpet.
The fragrant carpet of cedar or hemlock-spruce sprigs strewn lightly
over the earthen floor, was to them a luxury as great as if it had
been taken from the looms of Persia or Turkey, so happy and contented
were they in their ignorance. Their beds of freshly gathered grass and
leaves, raised from the earth by a heap of branches carefully
arranged, were to them as pleasant as beds of down, and the rude hut
of bark and poles as curtains of damask or silk.
Having collected as much of these materials as she deemed sufficient
for the purpose, Catharine next gathered up the dry oak branches, to
make a watch-fire for the night. This done, weary and warm, she sat
down on a little hillock, beneath the cooling shade of a grove of
young aspens that grew near the hut. Pleased with the dancing of the
leaves, which fluttered above her head, and fanned her warm cheek with
their incessant motion, she thought, like her cousin Louise, that the
aspen was the merriest tree in the forest, for it was always dancing,
dancing, dancing.
She watched the gathering of the distant thunderclouds, which cast a
deeper, more sombre shade upon the pines that girded the northern
shores of the lake as with an ebon frame. Insensibly her thoughts
wandered far away from the lonely spot whereon she sat, to the stoup
[Footnote: The Dutch word for veranda, which is still in common use
among the Canadians.] in front of her father's house, and in memory's
eye she beheld it all exactly as she had left it. There stood the big
spinning-wheel, just as she had set it aside; the hanks of dyed yarn
suspended from the rafters, the basket filled with the carded wool
ready for her work. She saw in fancy her father, with his fine
athletic upright figure, his sunburnt cheeks and clustering sable
hair, his clear energetic hazel eyes ever beaming upon her, his
favourite child, with looks of love and kindness as she moved to and
fro at her wheel. [Footnote: Such is the method of working at the
large wool-wheel, unknown or obsolete in England.] There, too, was her
mother, with her light step and sweet cheerful voice, singing as she
pursued her daily avocations; and Donald and Kenneth driving up the
cows to be milked, or chopping firewood. And as these images, like the
figures of the magic-lantern, passed in all their living colours
before her mental vision, her head drooped heavier and lower till it
sank upon her arm; and then she started, looked round, and slept
again, her face deeply buried in her young bosom, and long and
peacefully the young girl slumbered.
A sound of hurrying feet approaches, a wild cry is heard and panting
breath, and the sleeper, with a startling scream, springs to her feet:
she dreamed that she was struggling in the fangs of a wolf--its grisly
paws were clasped about her throat; the feeling was agony and
suffocation: her languid eyes open. Can it be?--what is it that she
sees? Yes, it is Wolfe; not the fierce creature of her dreams by night
and her fears by day, but her father's own brave, devoted dog. What
joy, what hope rushed to her heart! She threw herself upon the shaggy
neck of the faithful beast, and wept from fulness of heart.
"Yes," she joyfully cried, "I knew that I should see him again. My own
dear, dear, loving father! Father! father! dear, dear father, here are
your children! Come, come quickly!" and she hurried to the head of the
valley, raising her voice, that the beloved parent, who she now
confidently believed was approaching, might be guided to the spot by
the well-known sound of her voice.
Poor child! the echoes of thy eager voice, prolonged by every
projecting headland of the valley, replied in mocking tones, "Come
quickly!"
Bewildered she paused, listened breathlessly, and again she called,
"Father, come quickly, come!" and again the deceitful sounds were
repeated, "Quickly come!"
The faithful dog, who had succeeded in tracking the steps of his lost
mistress, raised his head and erected his ears as she called on her
father's name; but he gave no joyful bark of recognition as he was
wont to do when he heard his master's step approaching. Still
Catharine could not but think that Wolfe had only hurried on before,
and that her father must be very near.
The sound of her voice had been heard by her brother and cousin, who,
fearing some evil beast had made its way to the wigwam, hastily wound
up their line and left the fishing-ground to hurry to her assistance.
They could hardly believe their eyes when they saw Wolfe, faithful old
Wolfe, their earliest friend and playfellow, named by their father
after the gallant hero of Quebec. And they too, like Catharine,
thought that their friends were not far distant; joyfully they climbed
the hills and shouted aloud, and Wolfe was coaxed and caressed and
besought to follow them to point out the way they should take. But all
their entreaties were in vain. Worn out with fatigue and long fasting,
the poor old dog refused to quit the embers of the fire, before which
he stretched himself, and the boys now noticed his gaunt frame and
wasted flesh--he looked almost starved. The fact now became evident
that he was in a state of great exhaustion. Catharine thought he eyed
the spring with wishful looks, and she soon supplied him with water in
the bark dish to his great relief.
Wolfe had been out for several days with his master, who would repeat,
in tones of sad earnestness, to the faithful creature, "Lost, lost,
lost!" It was his custom to do so when the cattle strayed, and Wolfe
would travel in all directions till he found them, nor ceased his
search till he discovered the objects he was ordered to bring home.
The last night of the father's wanderings, when, sick and hopeless, he
came back to his melancholy home, as he sat sleeplessly rocking
himself to and fro, he involuntarily exclaimed, wringing his hands,
"Lost, lost, lost!" Wolfe heard what to him was an imperative command;
he rose, and stood at the door, and whined. Mechanically his master
rose, lifted the latch, and again exclaimed in passionate tones those
magic words, that sent the faithful messenger forth into the dark
forest path. Once on the trail he never left it, but with an instinct
incomprehensible as it was powerful, he continued to track the woods,
lingering long on spots where the wanderers had left any signs of
their sojourn; he had for some time been baffled at the Beaver Meadow,
and again where they had crossed Cold Creek, but had regained the
scent and traced them to the valley of the "Big Stone," and then, with
the sagacity of the bloodhound and the affection of the terrier he
had, at last, discovered the objects of his unwearied though often
baffled search.
What a state of excitement did the unexpected arrival of old Wolfe
create! How many questions were put to the poor beast, as he lay with
his head pillowed on the knees of his loving mistress! Catharine knew
it was foolish, but she could not help talking to the dumb animal, as
if he had been conversant with her own language. Ah, old Wolfe, if
your homesick nurse could but have interpreted those expressive looks,
those eloquent waggings of your bushy tail, as it flapped upon the
grass, or waved from side to side; those gentle lickings of the hand,
and mute sorrowful glances, as though he would have said, "Dear
mistress, I know all your troubles; I know all you say; but I cannot
answer you!" There is something touching in the silent sympathy of the
dog, to which only the hard-hearted and depraved can be quite
insensible. I remember once hearing of a felon who had shown the
greatest obstinacy and callous indifference to the appeals of his
relations and the clergyman who attended him in prison, but was
softened by the sight of a little dog that had been his companion in
his days of comparative innocence, forcing its way through the crowd,
till it gained the foot of the gallows; its mute look of anguish and
affection unlocked the fount of human feeling, and the condemned man
wept--perhaps the first tears he had shed since childhood's happy
days.
The night closed in with a tempest of almost tropical violence. The
inky darkness of the sky was relieved, at intervals, by sheets of
lurid flame, which revealed every object far off or near. The distant
lake, just seen amid the screen of leaves through the gorge of the
valley, gleamed like a sea of molten sulphur; the deep narrow defile,
shut in by the steep and wooded hills, looked deeper, more wild and
gloomy, when revealed by that vivid glare of light.
There was no stir among the trees, the heavy rounded masses of foliage
remained unmoved; the very aspen, that tremulous sensitive tree,
scarcely stirred: it seemed as if the very pulses of nature were at
rest. The solemn murmur that preceded the thunder-peals might have
been likened to the moaning of the dying. The children felt the
loneliness of the spot. Seated at the entrance of their sylvan hut, in
front of which their evening fire burned brightly, they looked out
upon the storm in silence and in awe. Screened by the sheltering
shrubs that grew near them, they felt comparatively safe from the
dangers of the storm, which now burst in terrific violence above the
valley. Cloud answered to cloud, and the echoes of the hills prolonged
the sound, while shattered trunks and brittle branches filled the air,
and shrieked and groaned in that wild war of elements.
Between the pauses of the tempest the long howl of the wolves, from
their covert in some distant cedar swamp at the edge of the lake,
might be heard from time to time,--a sound that always thrilled their
hearts with fear. To the mighty thunder-peals that burst above their
heads they listened with awe and wonder. It seemed, indeed, to them as
if it were the voice of Him who "sendeth out his voice, yea, and that
a mighty voice." And they bowed and adored his majesty; but they
shrank with curdled blood from the cry of the _felon wolf_.
And now the storm was at its climax, and the hail and rain came down
in a whitening flood upon that ocean of forest leaves; the old gray
branches were lifted up and down, and the stout trunks rent, for they
would not bow down before the fury of the whirlwind, and were
scattered all abroad like chaff before the wind.
The children thought not of danger for themselves, but they feared for
the safety of their fathers, whom they believed to be not far off from
them. And often amid the raging of the elements they fancied they
could distinguish familiar voices calling upon their names.
"Ah, if our fathers should have perished in this fearful storm," said
Catharine, weeping, "or have been starved to death while seeking for
us!" She covered her face and wept more bitterly.
But Louis would not listen to such melancholy forebodings. Their
fathers were both brave, hardy men, accustomed to every sort of danger
and privation; they were able to take care of themselves. Yes, he was
sure they were not far off; it was this unlucky storm coming on that
had prevented them from meeting.
"To-morrow, ma chere, will be a glorious day after the storm. It will
be a joyful one too; we shall go out with Wolfe, and he will find his
master, and then--oh, yes! I dare say my dear father will be with
yours. They will have taken good heed to the track, and we shall soon
see our dear mothers and chere petite Louise."
The storm lasted till past midnight, when it gradually subsided, and
the poor wanderers were glad to see the murky clouds roll off, and the
stars peep forth among their broken masses; but they were reduced to a
pitiful state, the hurricane having beaten down their little hut, and
their garments were drenched with rain. However, the boys made a good
fire with some bark and boughs they had in store: there were a few
sparks in their back log unextinguished; these they gladly fanned up
into a blaze, at which they dried their wet clothes, and warmed
themselves. The air was now cool almost to chilliness; for some days
the weather remained unsettled, and the sky overcast with clouds,
while the lake presented a leaden hue, crested with white mimic waves.
They soon set to work to make another hut, and found close to the head
of the ravine a great pine uprooted, affording them large pieces of
bark, which proved very serviceable in thatching the sides of the hut.
The boys employed themselves in this work, while Catharine cooked the
fish they had caught the day before, with a share of which old Wolfe
seemed to be mightily well pleased. After they had breakfasted, they
all went up towards the high table-land above the ravine, with Wolfe,
to look round in hope of getting sight of their friends from Cold
Springs; but though they kept an anxious look-out in every direction,
they returned towards evening tired and hopeless. Hector had killed a
red squirrel, and a partridge which Wolfe "treed,"--that is, stood
barking at the foot of the tree in which it had perched,--and the
supply of meat was a seasonable change. They also noticed and marked
with the axe, several trees where there were bee-hives, intending to
come in the cold weather and cut them down. Louis's father was a great
and successful bee-hunter; and Louis rather prided himself on having
learned something of his father's skill in that line. Here, where
flowers were so abundant and water plentiful; the wild bees seemed to
be abundant also; besides, the open space between the trees, admitting
the warm sunbeams freely, was favourable both for the bees and the
flowers on which they fed, and Louis talked joyfully of the fine
stores of honey they should collect in autumn. He had taught little
Fanchon, a small French spaniel of his father's, to find out the trees
where the bees hived, and also the nests of the ground-bees, and she
would bark at the foot of the tree, or scratch with her feet on the
ground, as the other dogs barked at the squirrels or the woodchucks;
but Fanchon was far away, and Wolfe was old and would learn no new
tricks, so Louis knew he had nothing but his own observation and the
axe to depend upon for procuring honey.
The boys had been unsuccessful for some days past, in fishing; neither
perch nor sunfish, pink roach nor mud-pouts [Footnote: All these fish
are indigenous to the fresh waters of Canada.] were to be caught.
However, they found water-mussels by groping in the sand, and
cray-fish among the gravel at the edge of the water only; the latter
pinched their fingers very spitefully. The mussels were not very
palatable, for want of salt; but hungry folks must not be dainty, and
Louis declared them very good when well roasted, covered up with hot
embers. "The fish-hawks," said he, "set us a good example, for they
eat them, and so do the eagles and herons. I watched one the other day
with a mussel in his bill: he flew to a high tree, let his prey fall,
and immediately darted down to secure it. But I drove him off; and, to
my great amusement, perceived the wise fellow had just let it fall on
a stone, which had cracked the shell for him just in the right place.
I often see shells lying at the foot of trees, far up the hills, where
these birds must have left them. There is one large thick-shelled
mussel that I have found several times with a round hole drilled
through the shell, just as if it had been done with a small
auger,--doubtless the work of some bird with a strong beak."
"Do you remember," said Catharine, "the fine pink mussel-shell that
Hec picked up in the little corn-field last year? It had a hole in one
of the shells too, [Footnote: This ingenious mode of cracking the
shells of mussels is common to many birds. The crow (_Corvus corone_)
has been long known by American naturalists to break the thick shells
of the river mussels, by letting them fall from a height on to rocks
and stones.] and when my uncle saw it, he said it must have been
dropped by some large bird, a fish-hawk possibly, or a heron, and
brought from the great lake, as it had been taken out of some deep
water; the mussels in our creeks being quite thin-shelled and white."
"Do you remember what a quantity of large fish bones we found in the
eagle's nest on the top of our hill, Louis?" said Hector.
"I do. Those fish must have been larger than our perch and sunfish;
they were brought from this very lake, I dare say."
"If we had a good canoe now, or a boat, and a strong hook and line, we
might become great fishermen."
"Louis," said Catharine, "is always thinking about canoes, and boats,
and skiffs; he ought to have been a sailor."
Louis was confident that if they had a canoe he could soon learn to
manage her; he was an excellent sailor already in theory. Louis never
saw difficulties; he was always hopeful, and had a very good opinion
of his own cleverness; he was quicker in most things, his ideas flowed
faster than Hector's. But Hector was more prudent, and possessed one
valuable quality--steady perseverance: he was slow in adopting an
opinion, but when once convinced, he pushed on steadily till he
mastered the subject or overcame the obstacle.
"Catharine," said Louis one day, "the huckleberries are now very
plentiful, and I think it would be a wise thing to gather a good store
of them and dry them for the winter. See, ma chere, wherever we turn
our eyes or place our feet they are to be found; the hill-sides are
purple with them. We may for aught we know, be obliged to pass the
rest of our lives here; it will be well to prepare for the winter,
when no berries are to be found."
"It will be well, mon ami. But we must not dry them in the sun; for
let me tell you, Mr. Louis, that they will be quite tasteless--mere
dry husks."
"Why so, ma belle?"
"I do not know the reason, but I only know the fact; for when our
mothers dried the currants and raspberries in the sun, such was the
case; but when they dried them on the oven floor, or on the hearth,
they were quite nice."
"Well, Cath, I think I know of a flat thin stone that will make a good
hearthstone; and we can get sheets of birch bark and sew into flat
bags to keep the dried fruit in."
They now turned all their attention to drying huckleberries (or
whortleberries). [Footnote: From the abundance of this fruit, the
Indians have given the name of Whortleberry Plain to the lands on the
south shore. During the month of July and the early part of August,
large parties come to the Rice Lake Plains to gather huckleberries,
which they preserve by drying, for winter use. These berries make a
delicious tart or pudding, mixed with bilberries and red currants,
requiring little sugar.] Catharine and Louis (who fancied nothing
could be contrived without his help) attended to the preparing and
making of the bags of birch bark; but Hector was soon tired of girl's
work, as he termed it, and after gathering some berries, would wander
away over the hills in search of game and to explore the neighbouring
hills and valleys, and sometimes it was sunset before he made his
appearance. Hector had made an excellent strong bow, like the Indian
bow, out of a tough piece of hickory wood, which he found in one of
his rambles, and he made arrows with wood that he seasoned in the
smoke, sharpening the heads with great care with his knife, and
hardening them by exposure to strong heat, at a certain distance from
the fire. The entrails of the woodchuck, stretched, and scraped, and
dried, and rendered pliable by rubbing and drawing through the hands,
answered for a bow-string; but afterwards, when they got the sinews
and hide of the deer, they used them, properly dressed for the
purpose.
Hector also made a cross-bow, which he used with great effect, being a
true and steady marksman. Louis and he would often amuse themselves
with shooting at a mark, which they would chip on the bark of a tree,
even Catharine was a tolerable archeress with the long-bow, and the
hut was now seldom without game of one kind or other. Hector seldom
returned from his rambles without partridges, quails, or young
pigeons, which are plentiful at this season of the year; many of the
old ones that pass over in their migratory flight in the spring stay
to breed, or return thither for the acorns and berries that are to be
found in great abundance. Squirrels, too, are very plentiful at this
season. Hector and Louis remarked that the red and black squirrels
never were to be found very near each other. It is a common belief
that the red squirrels make common cause with the gray, and beat the
larger enemy off the ground. The black squirrel, for a succession of
years, was very rarely to be met with on the Plains, while there were
plenty of the red and gray in the "oak openings." [Footnote: Within
the last few years, however, the black squirrels have been very
numerous, and the red are less frequently to be seen. The flesh of the
black squirrel is tender, white, and delicate, like that of a young
rabbit.] Deer, at the time our young Crusoes were living on the Rice
Lake Plains, were plentiful, and, of course, so were those beasts that
prey upon them,--wolves, bears, and wolverines, besides the Canadian
lynx, or catamount, as it is here commonly called, a species of wild
cat or panther. These wild animals are now no longer to be seen: it is
a rare thing to hear of bears or wolves, and the wolverine and lynx
are known only as matters of history in this part of the country.
These animals disappear as civilization advances, while some others
increase and follow man, especially many species of birds, which seem
to pick up the crumbs that fall from the rich man's board, and
multiply about his dwelling; some adopt new habits and modes of
building and feeding, according to the alteration and improvement in
their circumstances.
While our young people seldom wanted for meat, they felt the privation
of the bread to which they had been accustomed very sensibly. One day,
while Hector and Louis were busily engaged with their assistant,
Wolfe, in unearthing a woodchuck, that had taken refuge in his burrow,
on one of the gravelly hills above the lake, Catharine amused herself
by looking for flowers. She had filled her lap with ripe May-apples,
[Footnote: The fruit of the May-apple, in rich, moist soil, will
attain to the size of the magnum bonum, or egg-plum, which it
resembles in colour and shape. It makes a delicious preserve, if
seasoned with cloves or ginger. When eaten uncooked, the outer rind,
which is thick and fleshy and has a rank taste, should be thrown
aside; the fine seed pulp in which the seeds are embedded alone should
be eaten. The root of the podophyllum is used as a cathartic by the
Indians. The root of this plant is reticulated, and when a large body
of them are uncovered, they present a singular appearance, interlacing
each other in large meshes like an extensive net-work. These roots are
white, as thick as a man's little finger, and fragrant, and spread
horizontally along the surface. The blossom is like a small white
rose.] but finding them cumbersome in climbing the steep wooded hills,
she deposited them at the foot of a tree near the boys, and pursued
her search; and it was not long before she perceived some pretty
grassy-looking plants, with heads of bright lilac flowers, and on
plucking one pulled up the root also. The root was about the size and
shape of a large crocus: and on biting it, she found it far from
disagreeable--sweet, and slightly astringent. It seemed to be a
favourite root with the woodchucks, for she noticed that it grew about
their burrows on dry, gravelly soil, and many of the stems were bitten
and the roots eaten--a warrant, in full, of wholesomeness. Therefore,
carrying home a parcel of the largest of the roots, she roasted them
in the embers; and they proved almost as good as chestnuts, and more
satisfying than the acorns of the white oak, which they had often
roasted in the fire when they were out working on the fallow at the
log heaps. Hector and Louis ate heartily of the roots, and commended
Catharine for the discovery. Not many days afterwards, Louis
accidentally found a much larger and more valuable root near the lake
shore. He saw a fine climbing shrub, with close bunches of dark,
reddish-purple, pea-shaped flowers, which scented the air with a
delicious perfume. The plant climbed to a great height over the young
trees, with a profusion of dark-green leaves and tendrils. Pleased
with the bowery appearance of the plant, he tried to pull one up, that
he might show it to his cousin, when the root displayed a number of
large tubers, as big as good-sized potatoes, regular oval-shaped; the
inside was quite white, tasting somewhat like a potato, only
pleasanter, when in its raw state, than an uncooked potato. Louis
gathered his pockets full, and hastened home with his prize; and on
being roasted, these new roots were decided to be little inferior to
potatoes--at all events, they were a valuable addition to their
slender stores; and they procured as many as they could find,
carefully storing them in a hole which they dug for that purpose in a
corner of their hut. [Footnote: This plant appears to me to be a
species of the _Psoralea esculenta_, or Indian bread-root, which it
resembles in description, excepting that the root of the above is
tuberous, oval, and connected by long filaments. The largest tubers
are farthest from the stem of the plant.] Hector suggested that these
roots would be far better late in autumn or early in the spring than
during the time that the plant was in bloom; for he knew from
observation and experience that at the flowering season the greater
part of the nourishment derived from the soil goes to perfect the
flower and the seeds. Upon scraping the cut tuber, there was a white,
floury powder produced, resembling the starchy substance of the
potato.
"This flour," said Catharine, "would make good porridge with milk."
"Excellent, no doubt, my wise little cook and housekeeper," said Louis
laughing; "but, ma belle cousine, where is the milk and where is the
porridge-pot to come from?"
"Indeed," said Catharine, "I fear, Louis, we must wait long for both."
One fine day Louis returned home from the lake shore in great haste
for the bows and arrows, with the interesting news that a herd of five
deer were in the water, and making for Long Island.
"But, Louis, they will be gone out of sight and beyond the reach of
the arrows," said Catharine, as she handed him down the bows and a
sheaf of arrows, which she quickly slung round his shoulders by the
belt of skin which the young hunter had made for himself.
"No fear, ma chere; they will stop to feed on the beds of rice and
lilies. We must have Wolfe. Here, Wolfe, Wolfe, Wolfe! here, boy,
here!"
Catharine caught a portion of the excitement that danced in the bright
eyes of her cousin, and declaring that she too would go and witness
the hunt, ran down the ravine by his side; while Wolfe, who evidently
understood that they had some sport in view, trotted along by his
mistress, wagging his great bushy tail, and looking in high
good-humour.
Hector was impatiently waiting the arrival of the bows and Wolfe. The
herd of deer, consisting of a noble buck, two full-grown females, and
two young half-grown males, were quietly feeding among the beds of
rice and rushes not more than fifteen or twenty yards from the shore,
apparently quite unconcerned at the presence of Hector, who stood on a
fallen trunk, eagerly eying their motions. But the hurried steps of
Louis and Catharine, with the deep, sonorous baying of Wolfe, soon
roused the timid creatures to a sense of danger; and the stag, raising
his head and making, as the children thought, a signal for retreat,
now struck boldly out for the nearest point of Long Island.
"We shall lose them," cried Louis despairingly, eying the long bright
track that cut the silvery waters as the deer swam gallantly out.
"Hist, hist, Louis," said Hector; "all depends upon Wolfe--Turn them,
Wolfe! hey, hey, seek them, boy!"
Wolfe dashed bravely into the lake.
"Head them! head them!" shouted Hector. Wolfe knew what was meant.
With the sagacity of a long-trained hunter, he made a desperate effort
to gain the advantage by a circuitous route. Twice the stag turned
irresolute, as if to face his foe, and Wolfe, taking the time, swam
ahead, and then the race began. As soon as the boys saw the herd had
turned, and that Wolfe was between them and the island, they
separated, Louis making good his ambush to the right among the cedars,
and Hector at the spring to the west, while Catharine was stationed at
the solitary pine-tree, at the point which commanded the entrance of
the ravine.
"Now, Cathy," said her brother, "when you see the herd making for the
ravine, shout and clap your hands, and they will turn either to the
right or to the left. Do not let them land, or we shall lose them. We
must trust to Wolfe for their not escaping to the island. Wolfe is
well trained; he knows what he is about."
Catharine proved a dutiful ally. She did as she was bid. She waited
till the deer were within a few yards of the shore, then she shouted
and clapped her hands. Frightened at the noise and clamour, the
terrified creatures coasted along for some way, till within a little
distance of the thicket where Hector lay concealed--the very spot from
which they had emerged when they first took to the water; to this
place they boldly steered. Louis, who had watched the direction the
herd had taken with breathless interest, now noiselessly hurried to
Hector's assistance, taking an advantageous post for aim, in case
Hector's arrow missed, or only slightly wounded one of the deer.
Hector, crouched beneath the trees, waited cautiously till one of the
does was within reach of his arrow, and so good and true was his aim,
that it hit the animal in the throat a little above the chest, The
stag now turned again, but Wolfe was behind and pressed him forward,
and again the noble animal strained every nerve for the shore. Louis
now shot his arrow, but it swerved from the mark. He was too eager;
the arrow glanced harmlessly along the water. But the cool,
unimpassioned hand of Hector sent another arrow between the eyes of
the doe, stunning her with its force; and then another from Louis laid
her on her side, dying, and staining the water with her blood.
The herd, abandoning their dying companion, dashed frantically to the
shore; and the young hunters, elated by their success, suffered them
to make good their landing without further molestation. Wolfe, at a
signal from his master, ran in the quarry, and Louis declared
exultingly that as his last arrow had given the _coup de grace_,
he was entitled to the honour of cutting the throat of the doe; but
this the stern Highlander protested against, and Louis, with a
careless laugh, yielded the point, contenting himself with saying, "Ah
well, I will get the first steak of the venison when it is roasted,
and that is far more to my taste." Moreover, he privately recounted to
Catharine the important share he had had in the exploit, giving her,
at the same time, full credit for the worthy service she had performed
in withstanding the landing of the herd. Wolfe, too, came in for a
large share of the honour and glory of the chase.
The boys were soon hard at work skinning the animal and cutting it up.
This was the most valuable acquisition they had yet effected, for many
uses were to be made of the deer besides eating the flesh. It was a
store of wealth in their eyes.
During the many years that their fathers had sojourned in the country,
there had been occasional intercourse with the fur-traders and
trappers, and sometimes with friendly-disposed Indians who had called
at the lodges of their white brothers for food and tobacco.
From all these men, rude as they were, some practical knowledge had
been acquired; and their visits, though few and far between, had left
good fruit behind them--something to think about and talk about and
turn to future advantage.
The boys had learned from the Indians how precious were the tough
sinews of the deer for sewing. They knew how to prepare the skins of
the deer for moccasins, which they could cut out and make as neatly as
the squaws themselves. They could fashion arrow-heads, and knew how
best to season the wood for making both the long and cross bow. They
had seen the fish-hooks these people manufactured from bone and hard
wood. They knew that strips of fresh-cut skins would make bowstrings,
or the entrails of animals dried and rendered pliable. They had
watched the squaws making baskets of the inner bark of the oak, elm,
and bass-wood, and mats of the inner bark of the cedar, with many
other ingenious works that they now found would prove useful to them,
after a little practice had perfected their inexperienced attempts.
They also knew how to dry venison as the Indians and trappers prepare
it, by cutting the thick fleshy portions of the meat into strips from
four to six inches in breadth and two or more in thickness. These
strips they strung upon poles supported on forked sticks, and exposed
them to the drying action of the sun and wind. Fish they split open,
and removed the back and head bones, and smoked them slightly, or
dried them in the sun.
Their success in killing the doe greatly raised their spirits; in
their joy they embraced each other, and bestowed the most affectionate
caresses on Wolfe for his good conduct.
"But for this dear, wise old fellow, we should have had no venison for
dinner to-day," said Louis; "and so, Wolfe, you shall have a choice
piece for your own share."
Every part of the deer seemed valuable in the eyes of the young
hunters. The skin they carefully stretched out upon sticks to dry
gradually, and the entrails they also preserved for bow-strings. The
sinews of the legs and back they drew out and laid carefully aside for
future use.
"We shall be glad enough of these strings by-and-by," said careful
Hector; "for the summer will soon be at an end, and then we must turn
our attention to making ourselves winter clothes and moccasins."
"Yes, Hec, and a good warm shanty. These huts of bark and boughs will
not do when once the cold weather sets in."
"A shanty could soon be put up," said Hector; "for even Kate, wee bit
lassie as she is, could give us some help in trimming up the logs."
"That I could, indeed," replied Catharine; "for you may remember, Hec,
that the last journey my father made to the Bay, [Footnote: Bay of
Quinte.] with the pack of furs, that you and I called a _Bee_
[Footnote: A Bee is a practical instance of duty to a neighbour. We
fear it is peculiar to Canada, although deserving of imitation in all
Christian colonies. When any work which requires many hands is in the
course of performance, as the building of log houses, barns, or
shanties, all the neighbours are summoned, and give their best
assistance in the construction. Of course the assisted party is liable
to be called upon by the community in turn, to repay in kind the help
he has received.] to put up a shed for the new cow that he was to
drive back with him, and I am sure Mathilde and I did as much good as
you and Louis. You know you said you could not have got on nearly so
well without our help."
"After all," said Hector thoughtfully, "children can do a great many
things if they only resolutely set to work, and use the wits and the
strength that God has given them to work with. A few weeks ago and we
should have thought it utterly impossible to have supported ourselves
in a lonely wilderness like this by our own exertions in fishing and
hunting."
"If we had been lost in the forest we must have died with hunger,"
said Catharine; "but let us be thankful to the good God who led us
hither, and gave us health and strength to help ourselves."