Afar in the Forest Part 4

We had accomplished three or four miles, and I had begun to wonder why Uncle Mark had not overtaken us, as he was a quick walker, and intended to carry only his axe, and a small skin bag over his shoulder containing some necessaries. We were looking about us, in the hope of catching sight of a racc.o.o.n or opossum, or some larger game, when a howl, such as had aroused us one night a short time before, sounded through the forest.

"Sure, that comes from a pack of wolves," observed Mike. "But no! I belave one of the brutes is capable of making that noise. We have heard the echoes among the trees. I hope that there are not many of them, as they might take it into their heads to attack us, and that would not be pleasant."

We went on, however, troubling ourselves very little about the wolf, for I felt sure that there was only one, or a couple at the most. The stream, as we proceeded, became wider, running round the foot of some hills, with larches scattered on either side, their boughs bent down by the snow which had frozen hard on them. The sky had become cloudy by this time, too, and there was every appearance of a fresh fall.

"Surely Uncle Mark will be up with us soon, Mike!" I observed.

But scarcely had I spoken when I heard my uncle shouting to us. He was in the middle of the frozen stream, and was hurrying towards us, axe in hand. He had good reason to keep it there, for just then we saw a huge wolf rush out from behind a clump of trees close at hand. He stopped to receive his a.s.sailant, which, probably well nigh famished, seemed bent on his destruction.

Mike, without saying a word, had unslung the gun and dropped on his knee, for there was not a moment to be lost. In another instant the fierce wolf would have sprung at my uncle's throat, and might have taken his life; or, at all events, have severely injured him, and that before we could get near enough to render him any a.s.sistance. It all depended on Mike's steady aim, therefore; and although I was a good shot, still I was thankful that he had the gun.

He fired; and the brute, the moment that it was making its spring, fell over, snarling and hissing, with its shoulder broken. A blow on the head from my uncle's axe finished its existence.

"You have rendered me good service, Laffan," said my uncle, when we got up to him. "Had you not taken steady aim, that brute's fangs would have been at my throat in another moment."

"Faix, thin, Mr Mark, it is only what I would have wished to be done,"

answered Mike. "And if you ever catch sight of a bear about to give me a hug, or such a brute as this at my heels,"--and he gave the dead wolf a kick--"you will be afther shooting him, sure enough!"

"Well, Mike, we shall then be quits. In the meantime I am your debtor,"

answered my uncle, laughing. Notwithstanding the danger he had been in, he was quite unmoved. His cheek had not lost its ruddy glow, nor did a limb tremble.

We quickly skinned the wolf, and hung the hide up to the branch of a tree a little way from the bank, where it would be concealed from any pa.s.sers-by. We did not wish to enc.u.mber ourselves with it in the meantime, and we hoped to find it on our return. We were not likely to forget the spot, any more than those boys in the "old country" would do, who, as I have heard, are taken to certain landmarks and whipped, in order that they may afterwards bear them duly in mind.

We were thankful that the wolf which had attacked my uncle was alone, as it would have been unpleasant to find ourselves followed by a howling pack; and we now regretted that we had not all of us brought our guns.

Trudging on some miles further, we came upon a part of the river which had not been frozen over until after the snow fell. Here, the ice being clear, we put on our skates, and glided merrily along towards the spot where we understood the lumberers were at work.

CHAPTER THREE.

A TERRIFIC SNOWSTORM--KEPENAU'S TIMELY APPEARANCE--WE VISIT KEPENAU'S CAMP--HIS HOSPITALITY--AN INDIAN'S DREAD OF THE "FIRE WATER"--WE BID ADIEU TO OUR INDIAN FRIENDS--OUR ARRIVAL AT THE LOGGING ENCAMPMENT-- JACQUES MICHAUD TAKES A FANCY TO MIKE--JACQUES' RAFT STORY--MY UNCLE AND I START ON OUR RETURN--WE ARE ATTACKED BY A FIERCE PACK OF WOLVES, AND ARE SAVED BY KEPENAU AND HIS MEN--MIKE LAFFAN IN A DIFFICULTY--WE RESCUE HIM--ASHATEA, KEPENAU'S DAUGHTER--MY VISIT TO LILY--MR. AND MRS.

CLAXTON--DORA AND REUBEN--REUBEN VISITS OUR HUT--THE MARTEN AND PORCUPINE--AN OPOSSUM-HUNT.

The snow had for some time been falling lightly, but the wind which had arisen blew it off the ice, and thus it did not impede our progress; but that same wind, which was now by a turn of the river brought directly ahead of us, soon increased in strength, and drove the particles of snow, sharp as needles, into our faces. Indeed, the cold every instant became more intense, while the snow fell more thickly.

"Faix, and it's moighty loike a shower of penknives, mixed with needles and pins!" cried Mike. "It's a hard matther to keep the eyes open.

What will we be afther doing, Mr Mark, if it gets worse?"

"We'll go on till it does get worse," said Uncle Mark. "It would not do to turn back now."

Mike said no more, but, bending down his head, worked away manfully with might and main.

I did my best to keep up, but I may say that seldom have I endured such suffering. At last I felt that I could stand it no longer; so I proposed to my uncle that we should make for the sh.o.r.e, and there build a hut, light a fire, and wait till the storm was over.

He was, however, bent upon going on. "We should be half-frozen before we could get up a wigwam," he answered.

Just then I heard a voice hailing us in gruff tones, and I guessed it was that of an Indian; but we had no reason to dread the Indians of these parts. As we looked about to see from whence it proceeded, I caught sight of the tops of two or three wigwams just peeping out from a cedar-bush at a little distance from the sh.o.r.e.

"Friends, come here!" exclaimed some one, and we observed an Indian making towards us; whereupon we turned round and skated up to him.

"Ah, friends! I know you," he said. "You cannot face the storm, which will soon blow stronger still. Come to my wigwam, where you shall have shelter till it has pa.s.sed by."

As he spoke I recognised my old friend Kepenau, whom I had not seen since we had come to our present location. I had so grown, too, that he did not at first recognise me.

Having taken off our skates, we followed him to his camp, where he introduced us to several other Indians and their squaws, among whom were a number of children of all ages.

The thick cedar-bushes sheltered the spot completely from the wind, and the fire which burned in the centre afforded us a welcome warmth; for, in spite of the exercise we had gone through, our blood was chilled by the piercing snowstorm. The Indians were dressed partly in skins, and partly in garments made of blankets, received from the white men; most of the squaws wore a large blanket over their heads, forming a cloak in which they were shrouded. The wigwams were constructed of long thin poles, fastened at the top, and spread out in a conical form, the whole being covered thickly with slabs of birch-bark.

Our red-skinned hosts put us at once at our ease; and I asked Kepenau how he came to be in that part of the country.

"The white men compelled us to move westward," he answered. "They have planted on our lands, and shot the game on which we subsisted; and though I should have been content to remain among them and adopt their customs, yet my people wished to live as our fathers have lived; and I would not desert them. My desire is to instruct them in the truths I have myself learned; and it is only by dwelling with them, and showing them that I love them, that I can hope to do that."

We had much interesting conversation with Kepenau, and I was surprised at the amount of information on religious subjects which he possessed; indeed. I confess that he put us all to shame.

Uncle Mark looked grave, and sighed. "I used once to read my Bible, and listen gladly to G.o.d's Word read and preached, when I lived with my good father and mother in the 'old country,' though I have sadly neglected it since I came out here," he said; "but I will do so no longer. You have reminded me of my duty, friend Kepenau."

"What you say makes me glad. Keep to your resolve, for you cannot do G.o.d's will without reading his Word, to know what that will is,"

remarked Kepenau.

Our host gave up one of the wigwams for our special use, in the centre of which a fire burned, prevented from spreading by a circle of stones.

The ground around the sides was covered with thick rushes which served as our beds, and we lay with our feet towards the fire. Severe as was the cold outside, and thin as appeared the walls, the heat from the fire kept us thoroughly warm; and I never slept more soundly in my life, for, although our hosts were Redskins, we felt as secure as in our own hut.

Notwithstanding that the storm raged without, the wigwams were so well protected by the cedar-bushes that the fierce wind failed to reach us.

In the morning, when we came out of our wigwam we found that the squaws had prepared breakfast; which consisted of dried venison, cakes made from Indian corn, and fish which had been caught before the frost set in, and had remained hard-frozen ever since.

"You can now continue your journey, for the storm has ceased; and may the Great Spirit protect you!" observed Kepenau, looking up at the sky, across which the clouds were now scarcely moving.

Uncle Mark inquired why he did not bring his camp nearer the settlement.

"I will tell you," answered Kepenau. "Though I have been ever friendly with the white men, and value the advantages to be obtained from them, there is one thing for which I fear them,--their accursed 'fire water.'

Already it has slain thousands of my people, or reduced them to a state lower than the brutes which perish; and I know not whether my young men would resist the temptation were it placed in their way."

"But all the white men do not sell the 'fire water' of which you speak,"

observed Uncle Mark. "I have none in my hut."

"But while one among you possesses the poison, and is ready to barter it with my people, the harm may be done," answered Kepenau. "Until I am sure that none of the 'fire water' exists in your settlement, I will not allow my people to come near it."

"I am afraid, then, that you will fail to civilise them, as you desire,"

observed Uncle Mark.

"Do you call it civilising them, to teach them the vices of the white men?" exclaimed the Indian in a tone of scorn. "If so, then I would rather that they remained savages, as you call them, than obtain knowledge at such a price."

"I believe that you are right," answered Uncle Mark, as we bade our host and his family good-bye; "and I have learned more than one lesson from you."

Kepenau accompanied us to the bank of the river; where we put on our skates, and continued our course without interruption till we caught sight of several thin wreaths of smoke above the tops of the trees.

"Sure, that smoke must come from the lumberers' fires," observed Mike.