Book: The Young Fur Traders

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"Cleverly done, my lad; you're a chip of the old block, I see," said
Jacques, patting the child's head as he passed, and retraced his
steps, with Charley, to the Indian camp.




CHAPTER XV.

The feast--Charley makes his first speech in public, and meets with
an old friend--An evening in the grass.


Savages, not less than civilized men, are fond of a good dinner. In
saying this, we do not expect our reader to be overwhelmed with
astonishment. He might have guessed as much; but when we state that
savages, upon particular occasions, eat six dinners in one, and make
it a point of honour to do so, we apprehend that we have thrown a
slightly new light on an old subject. Doubtless there are men in
civilised society who would do likewise if they could; but they
cannot, fortunately, as great gastronomic powers are dependent on
severe, healthful, and prolonged physical exertion. Therefore it is
that in England we find men capable only of eating about two dinners
at once, and suffering a good deal for it afterwards; while in the
backwoods we see men consume a week's dinners in one, without any
evil consequences following the act.

The feast which was given by the Knisteneux in honour of the visit of
our two friends was provided on a more moderate scale than usual, in
order to accommodate the capacities of the "white men;" three days'
allowance being cooked for each man. (Women are never admitted to the
public feasts.) On the day preceding the ceremony, Charley and
Jacques had received cards of invitation from the principal chief in
the shape of two quills; similar invites being issued at the same
time to all the braves. Jacques being accustomed to the doings of the
Indians, and aware of the fact that whatever was provided for each
man _must_ be eaten before he quitted the scene of operations,
advised Charley to eat no breakfast, and to take a good walk as a
preparative. Charley had strong faith, however, in his digestive
powers, and felt much inclined, when morning came, to satisfy the
cravings of his appetite as usual; but Jacques drew such a graphic
picture of the work that lay before him, that he forbore to urge the
matter, and went off to walk with a light step, and an uncomfortable
feeling of vacuity about the region of the stomach.

About noon, the chiefs and braves assembled in an open enclosure
situated in an exposed place on the banks of the river, where the
proceedings were watched by the women, children, and dogs. The oldest
chief sat himself down on the turf at one end of the enclosure, with
Jacques Caradoc on his right hand, and next to him Charley Kennedy,
who had ornamented himself with a blue stripe painted down the middle
of his nose, and a red bar across his chin. Charley's propensity for
fun had led him thus to decorate his face, in spite of his
companion's remonstrances,--urging, by way of excuse, that worthy's
former argument, "that it was well to fall in with the ways o' the
people a man happened to be among, so long as these ways and customs
were not contrary to what was right." Now Charley was sure there was
nothing wrong in his painting his nose sky blue, if he thought fit.

Jacques thought it was absurd, and entertained the opinion that it
would be more dignified to leave his face "its nat'ral colour."

Charley didn't agree with him at all. He thought it would be paying
the Indians a high compliment to follow their customs as far as
possible, and said that, after all, his blue nose would not be very
conspicuous, as he (Jacques) had told him that he would "look blue"
at any rate when he saw the quantity of deer's meat he should have to
devour.

Jacques laughed at this, but suggested that the bar across his chin
was _red_. Whereupon Charley said that he could easily neutralise
that by putting a green star under each eye; and then uttered a
fervent wish that his friend Harry Somerville could only see him in
that guise. Finding him incorrigible, Jacques, who, notwithstanding
his remonstrances, was more than half imbued with Charley's spirit,
gave in, and accompanied him to the feast, himself decorated with the
additional ornament of a red night-cap, to whose crown was attached a
tuft of white feathers.

A fire burned in the centre of the enclosure, round which the Indians
seated themselves according to seniority, and with deep solemnity;
for it is a trait in the Indian's character that all his ceremonies
are performed with extreme gravity. Each man brought a dish or
platter, and a wooden spoon.

The old chief, whose hair was very gray, and his face covered with
old wounds and scars, received either in war or in hunting, having
seated himself, allowed a few minutes to elapse in silence, during
which the company sat motionless, gazing at their plates as if they
half expected them to become converted into beefsteaks. While they
were seated thus, another party of Indians, who had been absent on a
hunting expedition, strode rapidly but noiselessly into the
enclosure, and seated themselves in the circle. One of these passed
close to Charley, and in doing so stooped, took his hand, and pressed
it. Charley looked up in surprise, and beheld the face of his old
friend Redfeather, gazing at him with an expression in which were
mingled affection, surprise, and amusement at the peculiar alteration
in his visage.

"Redfeather!" exclaimed Charlie, in delight, half rising, but the
Indian pressed him down.

"You must not rise," he whispered, and giving his hand another
squeeze, passed round the circle, and took his place directly
opposite.

Having continued motionless for five minutes with becoming gravity,
the company began operations by proceeding to smoke out of the sacred
stem--a ceremony which precedes--all occasions of importance, and is
conducted as follows:--The sacred stem is placed on two forked sticks
to prevent its touching the ground, as that would be considered a
great evil. A stone pipe is then filled with tobacco, by an attendant
specially appointed to that office, and affixed to the stem, which is
presented to the principal chief. That individual, with a gravity and
_hauteur_ that is unsurpassed in the annals of pomposity, receives
the pipe in both hands, blows a puff to the east (probably in
consequence of its being the quarter whence the sun rises), and
thereafter pays a similar mark of attention to the other three
points. He then raises the pipe above his head, points and balances
it in various directions (for what reason and with what end in view
is best known to himself), and replaces it again on the forks. The
company meanwhile observe his proceedings with sedate interest,
evidently imbued with the idea that they are deriving from the
ceremony a vast amount of edification--an idea which is helped out,
doubtless, by the appearance of the women and children, who surround
the enclosure, and gaze at the proceedings with looks of awe-struck
seriousness that is quite solemnizing to behold.

The chief then makes a speech relative to the circumstance which has
called them together; and which is always more or less interlarded
with boastful reference to his own deeds, past, present, and
prospective, eulogistic remarks on those of his forefathers, and a
general condemnation of all other Indian tribes whatever. These
speeches are usually delivered with great animation, and contain much
poetic allusion to the objects of nature that surround the homes of
the savage. The speech being finished, the chief sits down amid a
universal "Ho!" uttered by the company with an emphatic prolongation
of the last letter--this syllable being the Indian substitute, we
presume, for "rapturous applause."

The chief who officiated on the present occasion, having accomplished
the opening ceremonies thus far, sat down; while the pipe-bearer
presented the sacred stem to the members of the company in
succession, each of whom drew a few whiffs and mumbled a few words.

"Do as you see the red-skins, Mr. Charles," whispered Jacques, while
the pipe was going round.

"That's impossible," replied Charley, in a tone that could not be
heard except by his friend. "I couldn't make a face of hideous
solemnity like that black thief opposite if I was to try ever so
hard."

"Don't let them think you're laughing at them," returned the hunter;
"they would be ill-pleased if they thought so."

"I'll try," said Charley, "but it is hard work, Jacques, to keep from
laughing; I feel like a high-pressure steam-engine already. There's a
woman standing out there with a little brown baby on her back; she
has quite fascinated me; I can't keep my eyes off her, and if she
goes on contorting her visage much longer, I feel that I shall give
way."

"Hush!"

At this moment the pipe was presented to Charley, who put it to his
lips, drew three whiffs, and returned it with a bland smile to the
bearer.

The smile was a very sweet one, for that was a peculiar trait in the
native urbanity of Charley's disposition, and it would have gone far
in civilized society to prepossess strangers in his favour; but it
lowered him considerably in the estimation of his red friends, who
entertained a wholesome feeling of contempt for any appearance of
levity on high occasions. But Charley's face was of that agreeable
stamp that, though gentle and bland when lighted up with a smile, is
particularly masculine and manly in expression when in repose, and
the frown that knit his brows when he observed the bad impression he
had given almost reinstated him in their esteem. But his popularity
became great, and the admiration of his swarthy friends greater, when
he rose and made an eloquent speech in English, which Jacques
translated into the Indian language.

He told them, in reply to the chief's oration (wherein that warrior
had complimented his pale-faced brothers on their numerous good
qualities), that he was delighted and proud to meet with his Indian
friends; that the object of his mission was to acquaint them with the
fact that a new trading-fort was established not far off, by himself
and his comrades, for their special benefit and behoof; that the
stores were full of goods which he hoped they would soon obtain
possession of, in exchange for furs; that he had travelled a great
distance on purpose to see their land and ascertain its capabilities
in the way of fur-bearing animals and game; that he had not been
disappointed in his expectations, as he had found the animals to be
as numerous as bees, the fish plentiful in the rivers and lakes, and
the country at large a perfect paradise. He proceeded to tell them
further that he expected they would justify the report he had heard
of them, that they were a brave nation and good hunters, by bringing
in large quantities of furs.

Being strongly urged by Jacques to compliment them, on their various
good qualities, Charley launched out into an extravagantly poetic
vein, said that he had heard (but he hoped to have many opportunities
of seeing it proved) that there was no nation under the sun equal to
them in bravery, activity, and perseverance; that he had heard of men
in olden times who made it their profession to fight with wild bulls
for the amusement of their friends, but he had no doubt whatever
their courage would be made conspicuous in the way of fighting wild
bears and buffaloes, not for the amusement but the benefit of their
wives and children (he might have added of the Hudson's Bay Company,
but he didn't, supposing that that was self-evident, probably). He
complimented them on the way in which they had conducted themselves
in war in times past, comparing their stealthy approach to enemies'
camps to the insidious snake that glides among the bushes, and darts
unexpectedly on its prey; said that their eyes were sharp to follow
the war-trail through the forest or over the dry sward of the
prairie; their aim with gun or bow true and sure as the flight of the
goose when it leaves the lands of the sun, and points its beak to the
icy regions of the north; their war-whoops loud as the thunders of
the cataract; and their sudden onset like the lightning flash that
darts from the sky and scatters the stout oak in splinters on the
plain.

At this point Jacques expressed his satisfaction at the style in
which his young friend was progressing.

"That's your sort, Mr. Charles. Don't spare the butter; lay it on
thick. You've not said too much yet, for they are a brave race,
that's a fact, as I've good reason to know."

Jacques, however, did not feel quite so well satisfied when Charley
went on to tell them that although bravery in war was an admirable
thing, war itself was a thing not at all to be desired, and should
only be undertaken in case of necessity. He especially pointed out
that there was not much glory to be earned in fighting against the
Chipewyans, who, everybody knew, were a poor, timid set of people,
whom they ought rather to pity than to destroy; and recommended them
to devote themselves more to the chase than they had done in times
past, and less to the prosecution of war in time to come.

All this, and a great deal more, did Charley say, in a manner, and
with a rapidity of utterance, that surprised himself, when he
considered the fact that he had never adventured into the field of
public speaking before. All this, and a great deal more--a very great
deal more--did Jacques Caradoc interpret to the admiring Indians, who
listened with the utmost gravity and profound attention, greeting the
close with a very emphatic "Ho!"

Jacques's translation was by no means perfect. Many of the flights
into which Charley ventured, especially in regard to the manners and
customs of the savages of ancient Greece and Rome, were quite
incomprehensible to the worthy backwoodsman; but he invariably
proceeded when Charley halted, giving a flight of his own when at a
loss, varying and modifying when he thought it advisable, and
altering, adding, or cutting off as he pleased.

Several other chiefs addressed the assembly, and then dinner, if we
may so call it, was served. In Charley's case it was breakfast; to
the Indians it was breakfast, dinner, and supper in one. It consisted
of a large platter of dried meat, reindeer tongues (considered a
great delicacy), and marrow-bones.

Notwithstanding the graphic power with which Jacques had prepared his
young companion for this meal, Charley's heart sank when he beheld
the mountain of boiled meat that was placed before him. He was
ravenously hungry, it is true, but it was patent to his perception at
a glance that no powers of gormandizing of which he was capable could
enable him to consume the mass in the course of one day.

Jacques observed his consternation, and was not a little entertained
by it, although his face wore an expression of profound gravity while
he proceeded to attack his own dish, which was equal to that of his
friend.

Before commencing, a small portion of meat was thrown into the fire
as a sacrifice to the Great Master of Life.

"How they do eat, to be sure!" whispered Charley to Jacques, after he
had glanced in wonder at the circle of men who were devouring their
food with the most extraordinary rapidity.

"Why, you must know," replied Jacques, "that it's considered a point
of honour to get it over soon, and the man that is done first gets
most credit. But it's hard work" (he sighed, and paused a little to
breathe), "and I've not got half through yet."

"It's quite plain that I must lose credit with them, then, if it
depends on my eating that. Tell me, Jacques, is there no way of
escape? Must I sit here till it is all consumed?"

"No doubt of it. Every bit that has been cooked must be crammed down
our throats somehow or other." Charley heaved a deep sigh, and made
another desperate attack on a large steak, while the Indians around
him made considerable progress in reducing their respective
mountains.

Several times Charley and Redfeather exchanged glances as they paused
in their labours.

"I say, Jacques," said Charley, pulling up once more, "how do you get
on? Pretty well stuffed by this time, I should imagine?"

"Oh no! I've a good deal o' room yet."

"I give in. Credit or disgrace, it's all one. I'll not make a pig of
myself for any red-skin in the land."

Jacques smiled.

"See," continued Charley, "there's a fellow opposite who has devoured
as much as would have served me for three days. I don't know whether
it's imagination or not, but I do verily believe that he's _blacker_
in the face than when we sat down!"

"Very likely," replied Jacques, wiping his lips, "Now I've done."

"Done! you have left at least a third of your supply."

"True, and I may as well tell you for your comfort that there is one
way of escape open to you. It is a custom among these fellows, that
when any one cannot gulp his share o' the prog, he may get help from
any of his friends that can cram it down their throats; and as there
are always such fellows among these Injins, they seldom have any
difficulty."

"A most convenient practice," replied Charley, "I'll adopt it at
once."

Charley turned to his next neighbour with the intent to beg of him to
eat his remnant of the feast.

"Bless my heart, Jacques, I've no chance with the fellow on my left
hand; he's stuffed quite full already, and is not quite done with his
own share."

"Never fear," replied his friend, looking at the individual in
question, who was languidly lifting a marrowbone to his lips; "he'll
do it easy. I knows the gauge o' them chaps, and for all his sleepy
looks just now he's game for a lot more."

"Impossible," replied Charley, looking in despair at his unfinished
viands and then at the Indian. A glance round the circle seemed
further to convince him that if he did not eat it himself there were
none of the party likely to do so.

"You'll have to give him a good lump o' tobacco to do it, though; he
won't undertake so much for a trifle, I can tell you." Jacques
chuckled as he said this, and handed his own portion over to another
Indian, who readily undertook to finish it for him.

"He'll burst; I feel certain of that," said Charley, with a deep
sigh, as he surveyed his friend on the left.

At last he took courage to propose the thing to him, and just as the
man finished the last morsel of his own repast, Charley placed his
own plate before him, with a look that seemed to say, "Eat it, my
friend, _if you can._"

The Indian, much to his surprise, immediately commenced to it, and in
less than half-an-hour the whole was disposed of.

During this scene of gluttony, one of the chiefs entertained the
assembly with a wild and most unmusical chant, to which he beat time
on a sort of tambourine, while the women outside the enclosure beat a
similar accompaniment.

"I say, master," whispered Jacques, "it seems to my observation that
the fellow you call Redfeather eats less than any Injin I ever saw.
He has got a comrade to eat more than half his share; now that's
strange."

"It won't appear strange, Jacques, when I tell you that Redfeather
has lived much more among white men than Indians during the last ten
years; and although voyageurs eat an enormous quantity of food, they
don't make it a point of honour, as these fellows seem to do, to eat
much more than enough. Besides, Redfeather is a very different man
from those around him; he has been partially educated by the
missionaries on Playgreen Lake, and I think has a strong leaning
towards them."

While they were thus conversing in whispers, Redfeather rose, and
holding forth his hand, delivered himself of the following oration:--

"The time has come for Redfeather to speak. He has kept silence for
many moons now, but his heart has been full of words. It is too full;
he must speak now. Redfeather has fought with his tribe, and has been
accounted a brave, and one who loves his people. This is true. He
_does_ love, even more than they can understand. His friends know
that he has never feared to face danger and death in their defence,
and that, if it were necessary, he would do so still. But Redfeather
is going to leave his people now. His heart is heavy at the thought.
Perhaps many moons will come and go, many snows may fall and melt
away, before he sees his people again; and it is this that makes him
full of sorrow, it is this that makes his head to droop like the
branches of the weeping willow."

Redfeather paused at this point, but not a sound escaped from the
listening circle: the Indians were evidently taken by surprise at
this abrupt announcement. He proceeded:--

"When Redfeather travelled not long since with the white men, he met
with a pale-face who came from the other side of the Great Salt Lake
towards the rising sun. This man was called by some of the people a
missionary. He spoke wonderful things in the ear of Redfeather. He
told him of things about the Great Spirit which he did not know
before, and he asked Redfeather to go and help him to speak to the
Indians about these strange things. Redfeather would not go. He loved
his people too much, and he thought that the words of the missionary
seemed foolishness. But he has thought much about it since. He does
not understand the strange things that were told to him, and he has
tried to forget them, but he cannot. He can get no rest. He hears
strange sounds in the breeze that shakes the pine. He thinks that
there are voices in the waterfall; the rivers seem to speak,
Redfeather's spirit is vexed. The Great Spirit, perhaps, is talking
to him. He has resolved to go to the dwelling of the missionary and
stay with him."

The Indian paused again, but still no sound escaped from his
comrades. Dropping his voice to a soft plaintive tone, he continued--

"But Redfeather loves his kindred. He desires very much that they
should hear the things that the missionary said. He spoke of the
happy hunting grounds to which the spirits of our fathers have gone,
and said that we required a _guide_ to lead us there; that there was
but one guide, whose name, he said, was Jesus. Redfeather would stay
and hunt with his people, but his spirit is troubled; he cannot rest;
he must go!"

Redfeather sat down, and a long silence ensued. His words had
evidently taken the whole party by surprise, although not a
countenance there showed the smallest symptom of astonishment, except
that of Charley Kennedy, whose intercourse with Indians had not yet
been so great as to have taught him to conceal his feelings.

At length the old chief rose, and after complimenting Redfeather on
his bravery in general, and admitting that he had shown much love to
his people on all occasions, went into the subject of his quitting
them at some length. He reminded him that there were evil spirits as
well as good; that it was not for him to say which kind had been
troubling him, but that he ought to consider well before he went to
live altogether with pale-faces. Several other speeches were made,
some to the same effect, and others applauding his resolve. These
latter had, perhaps, some idea that his bringing the pale-faced
missionary among them would gratify their taste for the marvellous--a
taste that is pretty strong in all uneducated minds.

One man, however, was particularly urgent in endeavouring to dissuade
him from his purpose. He was a tall, low-browed man; muscular and
well built, but possessed of a most villainous expression of
countenance. From a remark that fell from one of the company, Charley
discovered that his name was Misconna, and so learned, to his
surprise, that he was the very Indian mentioned by Redfeather as the
man who had been his rival for the hand of Wabisca, and who had so
cruelly killed the wife of the poor trapper the night on which the
Chipewyan camp was attacked, and the people slaughtered.

What reason Misconna had for objecting so strongly to Redfeather's
leaving the community no one could tell, although some of those who
knew his unforgiving nature suspected that he still entertained the
hope of being able, some day or other, to weak his vengeance on his
old rival. But whatever was his object, he failed in moving
Redfeather's resolution; and it was at last admitted by the whole
party that Redfeather was a "wise chief;" that he knew best what
ought to be done under the circumstances, and it was hoped that his
promised visit, in company with the missionary, would not be delayed
many moons.

That night, in the deep shadow of the trees, by the brook that
murmured near the Indian camp, while the stars twinkled through the
branches overhead, Charley introduced Redfeather to his friend
Jacques Caradoc, and a friendship was struck up between the bold
hunter and the red man that grew and strengthened as each successive
day made them acquainted with their respective good qualities. In the
same place, and with the same stars looking down upon them, it was
further agreed that Redfeather should accompany his new friends,
taking his wife along with him in another canoe, as far as their
several routes led them in the same direction, which was about four
or five days' journey; and that while the one party diverged towards
the fort at Stoney Creek, the other should pursue its course to the
missionary station on the shores of Lake Winnipeg.

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