The Young Fur Traders Part 10

"Hist!" said he, turning his head aside slightly, in a listening att.i.tude, while his comrades suddenly ceased their noisy laugh.

"Do ducks travel in canoes hereabouts?" said the man, after a moment's silence; "for, if not, there's some one about to pay us a visit. I would wager my best gun that I hear the stroke of paddles."

"If your ears had been sharper, Francois, you might have heard them some time ago," said the guide, shaking the ashes out of his pipe and refilling it for the third time.

"Ah, Louis, I do not pretend to such sharp ears as you possess, nor to such sharp wit either. But who do you think can be _en route_ so late?"

"That my wit does not enable me to divine," said Louis; "but if you have any faith in the sharpness of your eyes, I would recommend you to go to the beach and see, as the best and shortest way of finding out."

By this time the men had risen, and were peering out into the gloom in the direction whence the sound came, while one or two sauntered down to the margin of the lake to meet the newcomers.

"Who can it be, I wonder?" said Charley, who had left the tent, and was now standing beside the guide.

"Difficult to say, monsieur. Perhaps Injins, though I thought there were none here just now. But I'm not surprised that we've attracted _something_ to us. Livin' creeturs always come nat'rally to the light, and there's plenty fire on the point to-night."

"Rather more than enough," replied Charley, abruptly, as a slight motion of wind sent the flames curling round his head and singed off his eyelashes. "Why, Louis, it's my firm belief that if I ever get to the end of this journey, I'll not have a hair left on my head."

Louis smiled.

"O monsieur, you will learn to _observe_ things before you have been long in the wilderness. If you _will_ edge round to leeward of the fire, you can't expect it to respect you."

Just at this moment a loud hurrah rang through the copse, and Harry Somerville sprang over the fire into the arms of Charley, who received him with a hug and a look of unutterable amazement.

"Charley, my boy!"

"Harry Somerville, I declare!"

For at least five minutes Charley could not recover his composure sufficiently to _declare_ anything else, but stood with open mouth and eyes, and elevated eyebrows, looking at his young friend, who capered and danced round the fire in a manner that threw the cook's performances in that line quite into the shade, while he continued all the time to shout fragments of sentences that were quite unintelligible to any one.

It was evident that Harry was in a state of immense delight at something unknown save to himself, but which, in the course of a few minutes, was revealed to his wondering friends.

"Charley, I'm _going_! hurrah!" and he leaped about in a manner that induced Charley to say he would not only be going, but very soon _gone_, if he did not keep further away from the fire.

"Yes, Charley, I'm going with you! I upset the stool, tilted the ink-bottle over the invoice-book, sent the poker almost through the back of the fireplace, and smashed Tom Whyte's best whip on the back of the `noo 'oss,' as I galloped him over the plains for the last time--all for joy, because I'm going with you, Charley, my darling!"

Here Harry suddenly threw his arms round his friend's neck, meditating an embrace. As both boys were rather fond of using their muscles violently, the embrace degenerated into a wrestle, which caused them to threaten complete destruction to the fire as they staggered in front of it, and ended in their tumbling against the tent, and nearly breaking its poles and fastenings, to the horror and indignation of Mr Park, who was smoking his pipe within, quietly waiting till Harry's superabundant glee was over, that he might get an explanation of his unexpected arrival among them.

"Ah, they will be good voyageurs!" cried one of the men, as he looked on at this scene.

"Oui, oui! good boys, active lads," replied the others, laughing. The two boys rose hastily.

"Yes," cried Harry, breathless, but still excited, "I'm going all the way, and a great deal farther. I'm going to hunt buffaloes in the Saskatchewan, and grizzly bears in the--the--in fact everywhere! I'm going down the Mackenzie River--I'm going _mad_, I believe;" and Harry gave another caper and another shout, and tossed his cap high into the air. Having been recklessly tossed, it came down into the fire. When it went in, it was dark blue; but when Harry dashed into the flames in consternation to save it, it came out of a rich brown colour.

"Now, youngster," said Mr Park, "when you've done capering I should like to ask you one or two questions. What brought you here?"

"A canoe," said Harry, inclined to be impudent.

"Oh! and pray for what _purpose_ have you come here?"

"These are my credentials," handing him a letter.

Mr Park opened the note and read.

"Ah! oh! Saskatchewan--hum--yes--outpost--wild boy--just so--keep him at it--ay, fit for nothing else. So," said Mr Park, folding the paper, "I find that Mr Grant has sent you to take the place of a young gentleman we expected to pick up at Norway House, but who is required elsewhere; and that he wishes you to see a good deal of rough life--to be made a trader of, in fact. Is that your desire?"

"That's the very ticket!" replied Harry, scarcely able to restrain his delight at the prospect.

"Well, then, you had better get supper and turn in, for you'll have to begin your new life by rising at three o'clock to-morrow morning. Have you got a tent?"

"Yes," said Harry, pointing to his canoe, which had been brought to the fire and turned bottom up by the two Indians to whom it belonged, and who were reclining under its shelter enjoying their pipes, and watching with looks of great gravity the doings of Harry and his friend.

"_That_ will return whence it came to-morrow. Have you no other?"

"Oh yes," said Harry, pointing to the overhanging branches of a willow close at hand, "lots more."

Mr Park smiled grimly, and turning on his heel re-entered the tent and continued his pipe, while Harry flung himself down beside Charley under the bark canoe.

This species of "tent" is, however, by no means a perfect one. An Indian canoe is seldom three feet broad--frequently much narrower--so that it only affords shelter for the body as far down as the waist, leaving the extremities exposed. True, one _may_ double up as nearly as possible into half one's length, but this is not a desirable position to maintain throughout an entire night. Sometimes, when the weather is _very_ bad, an additional protection is procured by leaning several poles against the bottom of the canoe, on the weather side, in such a way as to slope considerably over the front; and over these are spread pieces of birch bark or branches and moss, so as to form a screen, which is an admirable shelter. But this involves too much time and labour to be adopted during a voyage, and is only done when the travellers are under the necessity of remaining for some time in one place.

The canoe in which Harry arrived was a pretty large one, and looked so comfortable when arranged for the night that Charley resolved to abandon his own tent and Mr Park's society, and sleep with his friend.

"I'll sleep with you, Harry, my boy," said he, after Harry had explained to him in detail the cause of his being sent away from Red River; which was no other than that a young gentleman, as Mr Park said, who _was_ to have gone, had been ordered elsewhere.

"That's right, Charley; spread out our blankets, while I get some supper, like a good fellow." Harry went in search of the kettle while his friend prepared their bed. First, he examined the ground on which the canoe lay, and found that the two Indians had already taken possession of the only level places under it. "Humph!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, half inclined to rouse them up, but immediately dismissed the idea as unworthy of a voyageur. Besides, Charley was an amiable, unselfish fellow, and would rather have lain on the top of a dozen stumps than have made himself comfortable at the expense of any one else.

He paused a moment to consider. On one side was a hollow "that" (as he soliloquised to himself) "would break the back of a buffalo." On the other side were a dozen little stumps surrounding three very prominent ones, that threatened destruction to the ribs of any one who should venture to lie there. But Charley did not pause to consider long.

Seizing his axe, he laid about him vigorously with the head of it, and in a few seconds destroyed all the stumps, which he carefully collected, and, along with some loose moss and twigs, put into the hollow, and so filled it up. Having improved things thus far, he rose and strode out of the circle of light into the wood. In a few minutes he reappeared, bearing a young spruce fir tree on his shoulder, which with the axe he stripped of its branches. These branches were flat in form, and elastic--admirably adapted for making a bed on; and when Charley spread them out under the canoe in a pile of about four inches in depth by four feet broad and six feet long, the stumps and the hollow were overwhelmed altogether. He then ran to Mr Park's tent, and fetched thence a small flat bundle covered with oilcloth and tied with a rope. Opening this, he tossed out its contents, which were two large and very thick blankets--one green, the other white; a particularly minute feather pillow, a pair of moccasins, a broken comb, and a bit of soap. Then he opened a similar bundle containing Harry's bed, which he likewise tossed out; and then kneeling down, he spread the two white blankets on the top of the branches, the two green blankets above these, and the two pillows at the top, as far under the shelter of the canoe as he could push them.

Having completed the whole in a manner that would have done credit to a chambermaid, he continued to sit on his knees, with his hands in his pockets, smiling complacently, and saying, "Capital--first-rate!"

"Here we are, Charley. Have a second supper--do!"

Harry placed the smoking kettle by the head of the bed, and squatting down beside it, began to eat as only a boy _can_ eat who has had nothing since breakfast.

Charley attacked the kettle too--as he said, "out of sympathy," although he "wasn't hungry a bit." And really, for a man who was not hungry, and had supped half an hour before, the appet.i.te of _sympathy_ was wonderfully strong.

But Harry's powers of endurance were now exhausted. He had spent a long day of excessive fatigue and excitement, and having wound it up with a heavy supper, sleep began to a.s.sail him with a fell ferocity that nothing could resist. He yawned once or twice, and sat on the bed blinking unmeaningly at the fire, as if he had something to say to it which he could not recollect just then. He nodded violently, much to his own surprise, once or twice, and began to address remarks to the kettle instead of to his friend. "I say, Charley, this won't do. I'm off to bed!" and suiting the action to the word, he took off his coat and placed it on his pillow. He then removed his moccasins, which were wet, and put on a dry pair; and this being all that is ever done in the way of preparation before going to bed in the woods, he lay down and pulled the green blankets over him.

Before doing so, however, Harry leaned his head on his hands and prayed.

This was the one link left of the chain of habit with which he had left home. Until the period of his departure for the wild scenes of the North-west, Harry had lived in a quiet, happy home in the West Highlands of Scotland, where he had been surrounded by the benign influences of a family the members of which were united by the sweet bonds of Christian love--bonds which were strengthened by the additional tie of amiability of disposition. From childhood he had been accustomed to the routine of a pious and well-regulated household, where the Bible was perused and spoken of with an interest that indicated a genuine hungering and thirsting after righteousness, and where the name of JESUS sounded often and sweetly on the ear. Under such training Harry, though naturally of a wild, volatile disposition, was deeply and irresistibly impressed with a reverence for sacred things, which, now that he was thousands of miles away from his peaceful home, clung to him with the force of old habit and a.s.sociation, despite the jeers of comrades and the evil influences and unG.o.dliness by which he was surrounded. It is true that he was not altogether unhurt by the withering indifference to G.o.d that he beheld on all sides. Deep impression is not renewal of heart. But early training in the path of Christian love saved him many a deadly fall. It guarded him from many of the grosser sins into which other boys, who had merely broken away from the _restraints_ of home, too easily fell. It twined round him--as the ivy encircles the oak--with a soft, tender, but powerful grasp, that held him back when he was tempted to dash aside all restraint; and held him up when, in the weakness of his human nature, he was about to fall. It exerted its benign sway over him in the silence of night, when his thoughts reverted to home, and during his waking hours, when he wandered from scene to scene in the wide wilderness; and in after years, when sin prevailed, and intercourse with rough men had worn off much of at least the superficial amiability of his character, and to some extent blunted the finer feelings of his nature, it clung faintly to him still, in the memory of his mother's gentle look and tender voice, and never forsook him altogether. Home had a blessed and powerful influence on Harry. May G.o.d bless such homes, where the ruling power is _love_! G.o.d bless and multiply such homes in the earth! Were there more of them there would be fewer heart-broken mothers to weep over the memory of the blooming, manly boys they sent away to foreign climes--with trembling hearts but high hopes--and never saw them more.

They were vessels launched upon the troubled sea of time, with stout timbers, firm masts, and gallant sails--with all that was necessary above and below, from stem to stern, for battling with the billows of adverse fortune, for stemming the tide of opposition, for riding the storms of persecution, or bounding with a press of canvas before the gales of prosperity; but without the rudder--without the guiding principle that renders the great power of plank and sail and mast available; _with_ which the vessel moves obedient to the owner's will, _without_ which it drifts about with every current, and sails along with every s.h.i.+fting wind that blows. Yes, may the best blessings of prosperity and peace rest on such families, whose bread, cast continually on the waters, returns to them after many days.

After Harry had lain down, Charley, who did not feel inclined for repose, sauntered to the margin of the lake, and sat down upon a rock.

It was a beautiful calm evening. The moon shone faintly through a ma.s.s of heavy clouds, casting a pale light on the waters of Lake Winnipeg, which stretched, without a ripple, out to the distant horizon. The great fresh-water lakes of America bear a strong resemblance to the sea.

In storms the waves rise mountains high, and break with heavy, sullen roar upon a beach composed in many places of sand and pebbles; while they are so large that one not only looks out to a straight horizon, but may even sail _out of sight of land_ altogether.

As Charley sat resting his head on his hand, and listening to the soft hiss that the ripples made upon the beach, he felt all the solemnising influence that steals irresistibly over the mind as we sit on a still night gazing out upon the moonlit sea. His thoughts were sad; for he thought of Kate, and his mother and father, and the home he was now leaving. He remembered all that he had ever done to injure or annoy the dear ones he was leaving; and it is strange how much alive our consciences become when we are unexpectedly or suddenly removed from those with whom we have lived and held daily intercourse. How bitterly we reproach ourselves for harsh words, unkind actions; and how intensely we long for one word more with them, one fervent embrace, to prove at once that all we have ever said or done was not _meant_ ill, and, at any rate, is deeply, sincerely repented of now! As Charley looked up into the starry sky, his mind recurred to the parting words of Mr Addison.

With uplifted hands and a full heart, he prayed that G.o.d would bless, for Jesus' sake, the beloved ones in Red River, but especially Kate; for whether he prayed or meditated, Charley's thoughts _always_ ended with Kate.

A black cloud pa.s.sed across the moon, and reminded him that but a few hours of the night remained; so hastening up to the camp again, he lay gently down beside his friend, and drew the green blanket over him.