Taking Tales Part 15

"Boys, if a fellow-creature is in distress, it's our business to go and see if we can help him," observed old Marks gravely, and turned the head of the canoe towards the island. "If he's not in distress it is only a little of our time lost, and better lose a great deal than leave a human being to perish, whatever the colour of his skin."

Tony and Tommy felt rebuked for their carelessness. On getting near the island, who should they see but Pat Honan, one of the men who had been employed chopping for Michael Hale. He now looked very blue. He could not speak, and could scarcely move his hands.

"He'd have been frozen to death in a few more minutes," said Marks.

"Light a fire, lads, quick, and we'll warm him up."

He threw one of the buffalo robes over the man, and poured a few drops of whiskey down his throat, while the boys made up a blazing fire.

Marks turned poor Pat round and round before it, rubbing and beating him. As soon as Pat could speak, he cried out, "Arrah, it was the whiskey, the whiskey did it all; ahone, ahone! if it wasn't for that, Pater Disney might have been alive and well."

"What about Peter Disney?" asked Marks.

"Oh, ahone, ahone! he lies out there stark and cold," answered Pat, pointing to the other end of the island.

As soon as Pat got well enough to be left for a little while, with Tommy to look after him and keep up the fire, Marks and Tony paddled round to where he pointed. There they found a boat knocking against some rocks, and, on landing, not far off was the body of Peter Disney, frozen stiff, though covered up with a blanket. He was sitting upright with his mouth open. A dreadful picture. Nothing could be done for him, so they again covered him up, and towed the boat out from among the rocks.

"I should like to write over his head, 'Drink did it,'" said the old man: "if I was more of a scholar I would."

As the canoe would not hold another pa.s.senger, they all got into the big boat and towed her. Marks, Pat, and Tommy took the oars while Tony steered.

"Well, Pat, how did it happen?" asked Marks.

"Why, do you see, Pater and I was going to do some work for a new settler at the farther end of the lake, and so we hired a boat to make a short cut--a long cut it'll be for Pater, seeing he'll never get there; och, ahone, ahone! Says Pater, 'We'll not do without provisions, Pat, and so I'll be after getting _Home_, and jist a drop of whiskey to wash them down.' I axes him if he'd got them all right. 'All right,' says he, as we shoved off. All right it wasn't though, for when I came to axe for some bread and cheese and a slice of pork, he hadn't got any.

Indeed, faith, he'd forgotten all else but a big bottle of the cratur.

'It's a bad bargain,' says I; but I thought we'd make the best of it.

We rowed, and we took a pull at the bottle, and we rowed again, and then another pull; but Pater took two pulls for my one--worse luck for him,-- and so we went on till somehow or other we both fell asleep. When we woke up, there we were in the middle of a rice-bed. How to get out was a hard job, when Pater, in trying to shove with the oar, fell overboard.

I caught him by one leg just as he was going to be drownded entirely, but he was little better than a ma.s.s of ice in a few minutes, in spite of the whiskey inside of him. I at last got him on sh.o.r.e, and covered him up with a blanket, but before long he was as stiff as an icicle, and though I shouted as loud as I could, and bate him with a big stick, I couldn't make him hear or feel. Ahone, ahone! och the whiskey! I'd rather that never a drop should pa.s.s my lips again, than to die as Pater Disney."

Several families of Irish had lately arrived at the settlement, to some of whom Peter Disney was related.

As soon as Pat Honan drew near the sh.o.r.e, where many of them were standing watching the boat, he shouted out that Peter was dead.

Forthwith they set up a fearful howl, in which others as they came up joined them, till the whole party were howling away in concert, led by Pat, who cried out, "Ah, it was drink--the cratur,--'twas drink, drink that did it."

Rob and Susan had arrived safely with the sleigh. As soon as the ground hardened, Rob set off in the canoe, and brought the luggage-sleigh home by the snow road formed through the woods, along the borders of the lake.

STORY THREE, CHAPTER 7.

Though most out-of-door work comes to a standstill in winter, chopping can still be carried on, fallen trees cut up and fresh trees cut down.

One of the customs of the country is to form a bee when any particular piece of work has to be done in a hurry. Such as a log hut or a barn raised, or some ground cleared.

The bees are the neighbours who come from far and near; they receive no wages, but are fed well, and whiskey is served out too well while they are at work. The more industrious among the settlers employed the time in the house in making household furniture, mending their tools, and in many other ways--not forgetting reading the Bible to their families.

The winter was already some way advanced when most of the inhabitants of Thornhill were invited to chop trees and to put up a log hut, by a gentleman, a Mr Sudbury, who had bought land about three miles off and wished to get in some crops as soon as the snow was off the ground.

Michael Hale, and Rob, and John Kemp, and Mr Landon, and many others went. They expected to clear half an acre of ground, and to get the walls and roof of the log hut up in one day. Most of the settlers in Thornhill were well, in spite of the cold, except Mrs Kemp. She had for some time been ailing, and expected soon to give birth to another child, Mrs Hale had gone in to have a chat with her, and to help her in some household matters, when Tommy came running in breathless.

"What's the matter, Tommy; eh boy?" asked Mrs Hale.

"A big tree has come down at Mr Sudbury's clearing, and killed, or pretty nigh killed, some one. n.o.body knows who it is, but I hope it's not father, nor Mr Hale either."

These words frightened both the wives, who wanted to set off at once.

"No, no, I'll go," said Mrs Hale. "You stay quiet at home, Mrs Kemp.

It's the only fit place for you."

Just then, one of the Miss Landon's came in to see Mrs Kemp. She said, if Tony, who had come up with his mother, would go with her, she would set off at once, with such things as were likely to be of use to the sufferer, whoever he might be.

"You, Mrs Hale, stay and take care of Mrs Kemp," she said.

This Mrs Hale promised to do, for Mrs Kemp was looking very ill.

Mary Landon was a young girl of much sense. She hurried home, and collected all the articles she might require.

Tony said that he knew a short cut, but as it was not beaten down it could not be pa.s.sed except on snow-shoes. His own he had brought with him. Mary had lately learned to walk in them, and had a a pair ready.

They were wooden frames in shape something like an egg flattened out, only sharp at both ends. The centre part was net-work of leather thongs, like a very coa.r.s.e sieve. They are fastened to the feet by thongs of leather. From covering so much s.p.a.ce, they do not sink into the snow. On their feet, people in winter wear in the country soft leather socks, called moca.s.sins, with one or two pairs of thick worsted socks inside. Mary's were made by an Indian woman, a squaw, as the natives call their wives and daughters. They were worked prettily with coloured porcupine-quills and beads.

Quickly putting on her snow-shoes, Mary set off with Tony. Both had long sticks in their hands. They had got about half way, when Tony looked up, and said, "I hope, Miss Landon, that you are not afraid of bears."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I see the fresh marks of one on the snow," he answered. "We may meet the gentleman; if we do, we must attack him with our sticks, and shout, and he will go off; but if we attempt to run, he'll gain courage and follow."

Mary said that she would follow Tony's advice; but as she walked on, she looked anxiously on one side and on the other, expecting to see the bear appear. As to running away in snow-shoes, that she could not, and she was afraid that, in attacking the bear, she might topple over, and he might set on her.

"No fear, Miss Mary," said Tony, as he saw her looking about; "if he does come, I'll give him a taste of the tip of my stick, and he'll soon turn his tail to us; he is not far off, I see by his marks; he'll show himself presently. Now don't run, Miss Mary, but shout out like a man, as if you wasn't afraid."

Scarcely had Tony given this advice, than a brown, s.h.a.ggy-coated bear was seen moving along the snow between the trees. He soon caught sight of the travellers, and sat up, watching them as they pa.s.sed.

"I told you he wouldn't hurt us," said Tony; "we used to see plenty of them where we were last." They had not, however, gone far, when Tony, looking over his shoulder, cried out, "Here he comes though; but don't fear, there's a rise a little farther on, and from the top of it we can see Mr Sudbury's clearing." Still the bear followed, and got closer and closer. Tony kept facing him every now and then. At last he cried out, "Now's our turn, Miss Mary, turn round and shout as you never shouted before." Mary did as she was advised, and Tony at the same time setting up a loud shriek and hallo, and shaking his stick, the bear was so astonished that he turned round and waddled off. Once or twice he looked back, but Tony's shout made him hasten away faster than before.

Thus it will be seen, that though there are bears in Canada, they are not much to be dreaded.

In a short time Mary and her companion arrived at the clearing. She inquired anxiously who was the sufferer, for she knew that it might be her own father as likely as any one else.

"It is John Kemp, he is there in the hut," was the answer.

"Bless you, Miss Mary," said Michael Hale, when he saw her come to a.s.sist his friend; "but I'm afraid that help comes too late. The best surgeon in the land couldn't cure him."

Poor John Kemp lay in a corner of the unfinished hut on a bed of spruce fir tops, a fire lighted near to give him some warmth. He was moaning and complaining of the cold. He had been cut by his axe as the tree fell, which at the same time crushed one of his legs and hurt his side.

Mary bound up the wound more carefully than it had been done, and fomented his side; but she saw that she could do no more, and advised his being carried home at once. No surgeon was to be found nearer than forty miles. One had been sent for, but it was very doubtful if he could come. A litter of boughs was at once formed, and poor John, wrapped up in buffalo robes, was at once placed on it, and Michael and Rob Hale, and other members of the bee, undertook to carry him home. He thanked his friends, and Mary in particular, but told them that he was sure he should never get there. He did, however; but those who carried him saw, as they drew near his cottage, that something was wrong.

Michael sent Tony on to ask. Tony came back shaking his head: some one had told Mrs Kemp, in a hurry, that her husband was killed. The shock was too great for one in her weak state. Just before her husband was brought home, she had died, giving birth to a tenth child, "G.o.d's will be done," whispered John Kemp, when he heard of his wife's death, "He will take care of our poor orphan children."

Before the night was over John himself had rejoined his wife in another world. His prayer was heard, and his faith in G.o.d's love rewarded. A meeting of all the settlers was called. Mr Landon proposed raising a subscription for the orphans. "That is not wanted," said Michael Hale, "I will take charge of two of them, and more, if the rest do not find homes--f.a.n.n.y and Tommy shall become my children."

"And I will take another girl then," said Mr Landon; "and the poor infant, my daughter will nurse it."

"I will take a boy," said Mr Sudbury.

Thus the children were quickly disposed of among some of the kindest and best of the people in the settlement. The orphans became really and truly their children, and were treated in no respects differently.