Book: The Young Fur Traders

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For two days nothing was heard of old Mr. Seaforth. Indeed, the
settlers had too much to do in saving themselves and their families
to think of others; and it was not until the third day that people
began to inquire about him. His son Peter had taken a canoe and made
diligent search in all directions, but although he found the house
sticking on a shallow point, neither his father nor the cat was on or
in it. At last he was brought to the island, on which nearly half the
colony had collected, by an Indian who had passed the house, and
brought him away in his canoe, along with the old cat. Is he not a
wonderful man, to have come through so much in his old age? and he is
still so active and hearty! Mr. Swan of the mill is dead. He died of
fever last week. Poor old Mr. Cordon is also gone. His end was very
sad. About a month ago he ordered his horse and rode off, intending
to visit Fort Garry. At the turn of the road, just above Grant's
house, the horse suddenly swerved, and its rider was thrown to the
ground. He did not live more than half-an-hour after it. Alas! how
very sad to see a man, after escaping all the countless dangers of a
long life in the woods (and his, you know, was a very adventurous
one), thus cut violently down in his old age. O Charley, how little
we know what is before us! How needful to have our peace made with
God through Jesus Christ, so that we may be ready at any moment when
our Father calls us away. There are many events of great interest
that have occurred here since you left. You will be glad to hear the
Jane Patterson is married to our excellent friend Mr. Cameron, who
has taken up a store near to us, and intends to run a boat to York
Fort next summer. There has been another marriage here which will
cause you astonishment at least, if not pleasure. Old Mr. Peters has
married Marie Peltier! What _could_ have possessed her to take such a
husband? I cannot understand it. Just think of her, Charley, a girl
of eighteen, with a husband of seventy-five!--

* * * * * * *

At this point the writing, which was very close and very small,
terminated. Harry laid it down with a deep sigh, wishing much that
Charley had thought it advisable to send him the second sheet also.
As wishes and regrets on this point were equally unavailing, he
endeavoured to continue it in imagination, and was soon as deeply
absorbed in following Kate through the well-remembered scenes of Red
River as he had been, a short time before, in roaming with her
brother over the wide prairies of Saskatchewan. The increasing cold,
however soon warned him that the night was far spent. He rose and
went to the stove; but the fire had gone out, and the almost
irresistible frost of these regions was already cooling everything in
Bachelors' Hall down to the freezing-point. All his companions had
put out their candles, and were busy, doubtless, dreaming of the
friends whose letters had struck and reawakened the long-dormant
chords that used to echo to the tones and scenes of other days. With
a slight shiver, Harry returned to his apartment, and kneeled to
thank God for protecting and preserving his absent friends, and
especially for sending him "good news from a far land." The letter
with the British post-marks on it was placed under his pillow. It
occupied his waking and sleeping thoughts that night, and it was the
first thing he thought of and reread on the following morning, and
for many mornings afterwards. Only those can fully estimate the value
of such letters who live in distant lands, where letters are few--
very, very few--and far between.




CHAPTER XXIII.

Changes--Harry and Hamilton find that variety is indeed charming--The
latter astonishes the former considerably.


Three months passed away, but the snow still lay deep and white and
undiminished around York Fort. Winter--cold, silent, unyielding
winter--still drew its white mantle closely round the lonely dwelling
of the fur-traders of the Far North.

Icicles hung, as they had done for months before, from the eaves of
every house, from the tall black scaffold on which the great bell
hung, and from the still taller erection that had been put up as an
outlook for "_the ship_" in summer. At the present time it commanded
a bleak view of the frozen sea. Snow covered every housetop, and hung
in ponderous masses from their edges, as if it were about to fall;
but it never fell--it hung there in the same position day after day,
unmelted, unchanged. Snow covered the whole land, and the frozen
river, the swamps, the sea-beach, and the sea itself, as far as the
eye could reach, seemed like a pure white carpet. Snow lined the
upper edge of every paling, filled up the key-hole of every door,
embanked about half of every window, stuck in little knobs on the top
of every picket, and clung in masses on every drooping branch of the
pine trees in the forest. Frost--sharp, biting frost--solidified,
surrounded, and pervaded everything. Mercury was congealed by it;
vapour was condensed by it; iron was cooled by it until it could
scarcely be touched without (as the men expressed it) "burning" the
fingers. The water-jugs in Bachelors' Hall and the water-buckets were
frozen by it, nearly to the bottom; though there was a good stove
there, and the Hall was not _usually_ a cold place by any means. The
breath of the inhabitants was congealed by it on the window-panes,
until they had become coated with ice an inch thick. The breath of
the men was rendered white and opaque by it, as they panted and
hurried to and fro about their ordinary avocations; beating their
gloved hands together, and stamping their well-wrapped-up feet on the
hard-beaten snow to keep them warm. Old Bobin's nose seemed to be
entirely shrivelled up into his face by it, as he drove his ox-cart
to the river to fetch his daily supply of water. The only things that
were not affected by it were the fires, which crackled and roared as
if in laughter, and twisted and leaped as if in uncontrollable glee
at the bare idea of John Frost acquiring, by any artifice whatever,
the smallest possible influence over _them_! Three months had
elapsed, but frost and snow, instead of abating, had gone on
increasing and intensifying, deepening and extending its work, and
riveting its chains. Winter--cold, silent, unyielding winter--still
reigned at York Fort, as though it had made it a _sine qua non_ of
its existence at all that it should reign there for ever!

But although everything was thus wintry and cold, it was by no means
cheerless or dreary. A bright sun shone in the blue heavens with an
intenseness of brilliancy that was quite dazzling to the eyes, that
elated the spirits, and caused man and beast to tread with a more
elastic step than usual. Although the sun looked down upon the scene
with an unclouded face, and found a mirror in every icicle and in
every gem of hoar-frost with which the objects of nature were loaded,
there was, however, no perceptible heat in his rays. They fell on the
white earth with all the brightness of midsummer, but they fell
powerless as moonbeams in the dead of winter.

On the frozen river, just in front of the gate of the fort, a group
of men and dogs were assembled. The dogs were four in number,
harnessed to a small flat sledge of the slender kind used by Indians
to drag their furs and provisions over the snow. The group of men was
composed of Mr. Rogan and the inmates of Bachelors' Hall, one or two
men who happened to be engaged there at the time in cutting a new
water-hole in the ice, and an Indian, who, to judge from his
carefully-adjusted costume, the snow-shoes on his feet, and the short
whip in his hand, was the driver of the sledge, and was about to
start on a journey. Harry Somerville and young Hamilton were also
wrapped up more carefully than usual.

"Good-bye, then, good-bye," said Mr. Rogan, advancing towards the
Indian, who stood beside the leading dog, ready to start. "Take care
of our young friends; they've not had much experience in travelling
yet; and don't over drive your dogs. Treat them well, and they'll do
more work. They're like men in that respect." Mr. Rogan shook the
Indian by the hand, and the latter immediately flourished the whip
and gave a shout, which the dogs no sooner heard than they uttered a
simultaneous yell, sprang forward with a jerk, and scampered up the
river, closely followed by their dark-skinned driver.

"Now, lads, farewell," said the old gentleman, turning with a kindly
smile to our two friends, who were shaking hands for the last time
with their comrades. "I'm sorry you're going to leave us, my boys.
You've done your duty well while here, and I would willingly have
kept you a little longer with me, but our governor wills it
otherwise. However, I trust that you'll be happy wherever you may be
sent. Don't forget to write to me. God bless you. Farewell."

Mr. Rogan shook them heartily by the hand, turned short round, and
walked slowly up to his house, with an expression of sadness on his
mild face; while Harry and Hamilton, having once more waved farewell
to their friends, marched up the river side by side in silence. They
followed the track left by the dog-sledge, which guided them with
unerring certainty, although their Indian leader and his team were
out of sight in advance.

A week previous to this time an Indian arrived from the interior,
bearing a letter from headquarters, which directed that Messrs.
Somerville and Hamilton should be forthwith despatched on snow-shoes
to Norway House. As this establishment is about three hundred miles
from the sea-coast, the order involved a journey of nearly two weeks'
duration through a country that was utterly destitute of inhabitants.
On receiving a command from Mr. Rogan to prepare for an early start,
Harry retired precipitately to his own room, and there, after cutting
unheard of capers, and giving vent to sudden, incomprehensible
shouts, all indicative of the highest state of delight, he
condescended to tell his companions of his good fortune, and set
about preparations without delay. Hamilton, on the contrary, gave his
usual quiet smile on being informed of his destination, and returning
somewhat pensively to Bachelors' Hall, proceeded leisurely to make
the necessary arrangements for departure. As the time drew on,
however, a perpetual flush on his countenance, and an unusual
brilliancy about his eye, showed that he was not quite insensible to
the pleasures of a change, and relished the idea more than he got
credit for. The Indian who had brought the letter was ordered to hold
himself in readiness to retrace his steps, and conduct the young men
through the woods to Norway House, where they were to await further
orders. A few days later the three travellers, as already related,
set out on their journey.

After walking a mile up the river, they passed a point of land which
shut out the fort from view. Here they paused to take a last look,
and then pressed forward in silence, the thoughts of each being busy
with mingled recollections of their late home and anticipations of
the future. After an hour's sharp walking they came in sight of the
guide, and slackened their pace.

"Well, Hamilton," said Harry, throwing off his reverie with a deep
sigh, "are you glad to leave York Fort, or sorry?"

"Glad, undoubtedly," replied Hamilton, "but sorry to part from our
old companions there. I had no idea, Harry, that I loved them all so
much. I feel as if I should be glad were the order for us to leave
them countermanded even now."

"That's the very thought," said Harry, "that was passing through my
own brain when I spoke to you. Yet somehow I think I should feel
uncommonly sorry after all if we were really sent back. There's a
queer contradiction, Hammy: we're sorry and happy at the same time!
If I were the skipper now, I would found a philosophical argument
upon it."

"Which the skipper would carry on with untiring vigour," said
Hamilton, smiling, "and afterwards make an entry of in his log. But I
think, Harry, that to feel the emotion of sorrow and joy at the same
time is not such a contradiction as it at first appears."

"Perhaps not," replied Harry; "but it seems very contradictory to
_me_, and yet it's an evident fact, for I'm _very_ sorry to leave
_them_, and I'm _very_ happy to have you for my companion here."

"So am I, so am I," said the other heartily. "I would rather travel
with you, Harry, than with any of our late companions, although I
like them all very much."

The two friends had grown, almost imperceptibly, in each other's
esteem during their residence under the same roof, more than either
of them would have believed possible. The gay, reckless hilarity of
the one did not at first accord with the quiet gravity and, as his
comrades styled it, _softness_ of the other. But character is
frequently misjudged at first sight, and sometimes men who on a first
acquaintance have felt repelled from each other have, on coming to
know each other better, discovered traits and good qualities that ere
long formed enduring bonds of sympathy, and have learned to love
those whom at first they felt disposed to dislike or despise. Thus
Harry soon came to know that what he at first thought and, along with
his companions, called softness in Hamilton in reality gentleness of
disposition and thorough good-nature, united in one who happened to
be utterly unacquainted with the _knowing_ ways of this peculiarly
sharp and clever world, while in the course of time new qualities
showed themselves in a quiet, unobtrusive way that won upon his
affections and raised his esteem. On the other hand, Hamilton found
that although Harry was volatile, and possessed of an irresistible
tendency to fun and mischief, he never by any chance gave way to
anger, or allowed malice to enter into his practical jokes. Indeed,
he often observed him to restrain his natural tendencies when they
were at all likely to give pain, though Harry never dreamed that such
efforts were known to any one but himself. Besides this, Harry was
peculiarly _unselfish_, and when a man is possessed of this
inestimable disposition, he is, not _quite_ but _very nearly_,
perfect!

After another pause, during which the party had left the open river
and directed their course through the woods, where the depth of the
snow obliged them to tread in each other's footsteps, Harry resumed
the conversation.

"You have not yet told me, by-the-by, what old Mr. Rogan said to you
just before we started. Did he give you any hint as to where you
might be sent to after reaching Norway House?"

"No; he merely said he knew that clerks were wanted both for
Mackenzie River and the Saskatchewan districts, but he did not know
which I was destined for."

"Hum! exactly what he said to me, with the slight addition that he
strongly suspected that Mackenzie River would be my doom. Are you
aware, Hammy my boy, that the Saskatchewan district is a sort of
terrestrial paradise, and Mackenzie River equivalent to Botany Bay?"

"I have heard as much during our conversations in Bachelors' Hall,
but--Stop a bit, Harry; these snow-shoe lines of mine have got
loosened with tearing through this deep snow and these shockingly
thick bushes. There--they are right now; go on. I was going to say
that I don't--oh!"

This last exclamation was elicited from Hamilton by a sharp blow
caused by a branch which, catching on part of Harry's dress as he
plodded on in front, suddenly rebounded and struck him across the
face. This is of common occurrence in travelling through the woods,
especially to those who from inexperience walk too closely on the
heels of their companions.

"What's wrong now, Hammy?" inquired his friend, looking over his
shoulder.

"Oh, nothing worth mentioning--rather a sharp blow from a branch,
that's all."

"Well, proceed; you've interrupted yourself twice in what you were
going to say. Perhaps it'll come out if you try it a third time."

"I was merely going to say that I don't much care where I am sent to,
so long as it is not to an outpost where I shall be all alone."

"All very well, my friend; but seeing that outposts are, in
comparison with principal forts, about a hundred to one, your chance
of avoiding them is rather slight. However, our youth and want of
experience is in our favour, as they like to send men who have seen
some service to outposts. But I fear that, with such brilliant
characters as you and I, Hammy, youth will only be an additional
recommendation, and inexperience won't last long.--Hollo! what's
going on yonder?"

Harry pointed as he spoke to an open spot in the woods about a
quarter of a mile in advance, where a dark object was seen lying on
the snow, writhing about, now coiling into a lump, and anon extending
itself like a huge snake in agony.

As the two friends looked, a prolonged howl floated towards them.

"Something wrong with the dogs, I declare!" cried Harry.

"No doubt of it," replied his friend, hurrying forward, as they saw
their Indian guide rise from the ground and flourish his whip
energetically, while the howls rapidly increased.

A few minutes brought them to the scene of action, where they found
the dogs engaged in a fight among themselves, and the driver, in a
state of vehement passion, alternately belabouring and trying to
separate them. Dogs in these regions, like the dogs of all other
regions, we suppose, are very much addicted to fighting--a propensity
which becomes extremely unpleasant if indulged while the animals are
in harness, as they then become peculiarly savage, probably from
their being unable, like an ill-assorted pair in wedlock, to cut or
break the ties that bind them. Moreover, they twist the traces into
such an ingeniously complicated mass that it renders disentanglement
almost impossible, even after exhaustion has reduced them to
obedience. Besides this, they are so absorbed in worrying each other
that for the time they are utterly regardless of their driver's lash
or voice. This naturally makes the driver angry, and sometimes
irascible men practise shameful cruelties on the poor dogs. When the
two friends came up they found the Indian glaring at the animals, as
they fought and writhed in the snow, with every lineament of his
swarthy face distorted with passion, and panting from his late
exertions. Suddenly he threw himself on the dogs again, and lashed
them furiously with the whip. Finding that this had no effect, he
twined the lash round his hand, and struck them violently over their
heads and snouts with the handle; then falling down on his knees, he
caught the most savage of the animals by the throat, and seizing its
nose between his teeth almost bit it off. The appalling yell that
followed this cruel act seemed to subdue the dogs, for they ceased to
fight, and crouched, whining, in the snow.

With a bound like a tiger young Hamilton sprang upon the guide, and
seizing him by the throat, hurled him violently to the ground.
"Scoundrel!" he cried, standing over the crestfallen Indian with
flushed face and flashing eyes, "how dare you thus treat the
creatures of God?"

The young man would have spoken more, but his indignation was so
fierce that it could not find vent in words. For a moment he raised
his fist, as if he meditated dashing the Indian again to the ground
as he slowly arose; then, as if changing his mind, he seized him by
the back of the neck, thrust him towards the panting dogs, and stood
in silence over him with the whip grasped firmly in his hand, while
he disentangled the traces.

This accomplished, Hamilton ordered him in a voice of suppressed
anger to "go forward"--an order which the cowed guide promptly
obeyed, and in a few minutes more the two friends were again alone.

"Hamilton, my boy," exclaimed Harry, who up to this moment seemed to
have been petrified, "you have perfectly amazed me! I'm utterly
bewildered."

"Indeed, I fear that I have been very violent," said Hamilton,
blushing deeply.

"Violent!" exclaimed his friend. "Why, man, I've completely mistaken
your character. I--I--"

"I hope not, Harry," said Hamilton, in a subdued tone; "I hope not.
Believe me, I am not naturally violent. I should be very sorry were
you to think so. Indeed, I never felt thus before, and now that it is
over I am amazed at myself; but surely you'll admit that there was
great provocation. Such terrible cruelty to--"

"My dear fellow, you quite misunderstand me. I'm amazed at your
pluck, your energy. _Soft_ indeed! we have been most egregiously
mistaken. Provocation! I just think you had; my only sorrow is that
you didn't give him a little more."

"Come, come, Harry; I see you would be as cruel to him as he was to
the poor dog. But let us press forward; it is already growing dark,
and we must not let the fellow out of sight ahead of us."

"_Allons donc_," cried Harry; and hastening their steps, they
travelled silently and rapidly among the stems of the trees, while
the shades of night gathered slowly round them.

That night the three travellers encamped in the snow under the
shelter of a spreading pine. The encampment was formed almost exactly
in a similar manner to that in which they had slept on the night of
their exploits at North River. They talked less, however, than on
that occasion, and slept more soundly. Before retiring to rest, and
while Harry was extended, half asleep and half awake, on his green
blanket, enjoying the delightful repose that follows a hard day's
march and a good supper, Hamilton drew near to the Indian, who sat
sullenly smoking a little apart from the young men. Sitting down
beside him, he administered a long rebuke in a low, grave tone of
voice. Like rebukes generally, it had the effect of making the visage
of the Indian still more sullen. But the young man did not appear to
notice this; he still continued to talk. As he went on, the look grew
less and less sullen, until it faded entirely away, and was succeeded
by that grave, quiet, respectful expression peculiar to the face of
the North American Indian.

Day succeeded day, night followed night, and still found them
plodding laboriously through the weary waste of snow, or encamping
under the trees of the forest. The two friends went through all the
varied stages of experience which are included in what is called
"becoming used to the work," which is sometimes a modified meaning of
the expression "used up." They started with a degree of vigour that
one would have thought no amount of hard work could possibly abate.
They became aware of the melancholy fact that fatigue unstrings the
youngest and toughest sinews. They pressed on, however, from stern
necessity, and found, to their delight, that young muscles recover
their elasticity even in the midst of severe exertion. They still
pressed on, and discovered, to their dismay, that this recovery was
only temporary, and that the second state of exhaustion was
infinitely worse than the first. Still they pressed on, and raised
blisters on their feet and toes that caused them to limp wofully;
then they learned that blisters break and take a long time to heal,
and are much worse to walk upon during the healing process than they
are at the commencement--at which time they innocently fancied that
nothing could be more dreadful. Still they pressed on day after day,
and found to their satisfaction that such things can be endured and
overcome; that feet and toes can become hard like leather, that
muscles can grow tough as india-rubber, and that spirits and energy
can attain to a pitch of endurance which nothing within the compass
of a day's march can by any possibility overcome. They found also,
from experience, that their conversation changed, both in manner and
subject, as they progressed on their journey. At first they conversed
frequently and on various topics, chiefly on the probability of their
being sent to pleasant places or the reverse. Then they spoke less
frequently, and growled occasionally, as they advanced in the painful
process of training. After that, as they began to get hardy, they
talked of the trees, the snow, the ice, the tracks of wild animals
they happened to cross, and the objects of nature generally that came
under their observation. Then as their muscles hardened and their
sinews grew tough, and the day's march at length became first a
matter of indifference, and ultimately an absolute pleasure, they
chatted cheerfully on any and every subject, or sang occasionally,
when the sun shone out and cast an _appearance_ of warmth across
their path. Thus onward they pressed, without halt or stay, day after
day, through wood and brake, over river and lake, on ice and on snow,
for miles and miles together, through the great, uninhabited, frozen
wilderness.




CHAPTER XXIV.

Hopes and fears--An unexpected meeting--Philosophical talk between
the hunter and the parson.


On arriving at Norway House, Harry Somerville and his friend Hamilton
found that they were to remain at that establishment during an
indefinite period of time, until it should please those in whose
hands their ultimate destination lay to direct them how and where to
proceed. This was an unlooked-for trial of their patience; but after
the first exclamation of disappointment, they made up their minds,
like wise men, to think no more about it, but bide their time, and
make the most of present circumstances.

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