Book: The Young Fur Traders

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"Pleasant little kingdom that of yours, Charley," remarked Harry
Somerville, as they passed the station.

"Very," was the laconic reply.

They had scarcely passed the place above a mile, when a canoe,
containing a solitary Indian, was observed to shoot out from the
shore and paddle hastily towards them. From this man they learned
that a herd of deer was passing down towards the lake, and would be
on its banks in a few minutes. He had been waiting their arrival when
the canoes came in sight, and induced him to hurry out so as to give
them warning. Having no time to lose, the whole party now paddled
swiftly for the shore, and reached it just a few minutes before the
branching antlers of the deer came in sight above the low bushes that
skirted the wood. Harry Somerville embarked in the bow of the strange
Indian's canoe, so as to lighten the other and enable all parties to
have a fair chance. After snuffing the breeze for a few seconds, the
foremost animal took the water, and commenced swimming towards the
opposite shore of the lake, which at this particular spot was narrow.
It was followed by seven others. After sufficient time was permitted
to elapse to render their being cut off, in an attempt to return,
quite certain, the three canoes darted from the shelter of the
overhanging bushes, and sprang lightly over the water in pursuit.

"Don't hurry, and strike sure," cried Jacques to his young friends,
as they came up with the terrified deer that now swam for their
lives.

"Ay, ay," was the reply.

In another moment they shot in among the struggling group. Harry
Somerville stood up, and seizing the Indian's spear, prepared to
strike, while his companions directed their course towards others of
the herd. A few seconds sufficed to bring him up with it. Leaning
backwards a little, so as to give additional force to the blow, he
struck the spear deep into the animal's back. With a convulsive
struggle, it ceased to swim, its head slowly sank, and in another
second it lay dead upon the water. "Without waiting a moment, the
Indian immediately directed the canoe towards another deer; while the
remainder of the party, now considerably separated from each other,
despatched the whole herd by means of axes and knives.

"Ha!" exclaimed Jacques, as they towed their booty to the shore,
"that's a good stock o' meat, Mister Charles. It will help to furnish
the larder for the winter pretty well."

"It was much wanted, Jacques: we've a good many mouths to feed,
besides _treating_ the Indians now and then. And this fellow, I
think, will claim the most of our hunt as his own. We should not have
got the deer but for him."

"True, true, Mister Charles. They belong to the red-skin by rights,
that's sartin."

After this exploit, another night was passed under the trees; and at
noon on the day following they ran their canoe alongside the wooden
wharf at Stoney Creek.

"Good-day to you, gentlemen," said Mr. Whyte to Harry and Hamilton as
they landed; "I've been looking out for you these two weeks past.
Glad you've come at last, however. Plenty to do, and no time to lose.
You have despatches, of course. Ah! that's right." (Harry drew a
sealed packet from his bosom and presented it with a bow), "that's
right. I must peruse these at once.--Mr. Kennedy, you will show these
gentlemen their quarters. We dine in half-an-hour." So saying, Mr.
Whyte thrust the packet into his pocket, and without further remark
strode towards his dwelling; while Charley, as instructed, led his
friends to their new residence--not forgetting, however, to charge
Redfeather to see to the comfortable lodgment of Jacques Caradoc.

"Now it strikes me," remarked Harry, as he sat down on the edge of
Charley's bed and thrust his hands doggedly down into his pockets,
while Hamilton tucked up his sleeves and assaulted a washhand-basin
which stood on an unpainted wooden chair in a corner--"it strikes me
that if _that's_ his usual style of behaviour, old Whyte is a
pleasure that we didn't anticipate."

"Don't judge from first impressions; they're often deceptive,"
spluttered Hamilton, pausing in his ablutions to look at his friend
through a mass of soap-suds--an act which afterwards caused him a
good deal of pain and a copious flow of unbidden tears.

"Right," exclaimed Charley, with an approving nod to Hamilton.--"You
must not judge him prematurely, Harry. He's a good-hearted fellow at
bottom; and if he once takes a liking for you, he'll go through fire
and water to serve you, as I know from experience."

"Which means to say _three_ things," replied the implacable Harry:
"first, that for all his good-heartedness _at bottom,_ he never shows
any of it _at top,_ and is therefore like unto truth, which is said
to lie at the bottom of a well--so deep, in fact, that it is never
got out, and so is of use to nobody; secondly, that he is possessed
of that amount of affection which is common to all mankind (to a
great extent even to brutes), which prompts a man to be reasonably
attentive to his friends; and thirdly, that you, Master Kennedy,
enjoy the peculiar privilege of being the friend of a two-legged
polar bear!"

"Were I not certain that you jest," retorted Kennedy, "I would compel
you to apologize to me for insulting my friend, you rascal! But see,
here's the cook coming to tell us that dinner waits. If you don't
wish to see the teeth of the polar bear^ I'd advise you to be smart."

Thus admonished, Harry sprang up, plunged his hands and face in the
basin and dried them, broke Charley's comb in attempting to pass it
hastily through his hair, used his fingers savagely as a substitute,
and overtook his companions just as they entered the mess-room.

The establishment of Stoney Creek was comprised within two acres of
ground. It consisted of eight or nine houses--three of which,
however, alone met the eye on approaching by the lake. The "great"
house, as it was termed, on account of its relative proportion to the
other buildings, was a small edifice, built substantially but roughly
of unsquared logs, partially whitewashed, roofed with shingles, and
boasting six small windows in front, with a large door between them.
On its east side, and at right angles to it, was a similar edifice,
but smaller, having two doors instead of one, and four windows
instead of six. This was the trading-shop and provision-store.
Opposite to this was a twin building which contained the furs and a
variety of miscellaneous stores. Thus were formed three sides of a
square, from the centre of which rose a tall flagstaff. The buildings
behind those just described were smaller and insignificant--the
principal one being the house appropriated to the men; the others
were mere sheds and workshops. Luxuriant forests ascended the slopes
that rose behind and encircled this oasis on all sides, excepting in
front, where the clear waters of the lake sparkled like a blue
mirror.

On the margin of this lake the new arrivals, left to enjoy themselves
as they best might for a day or two, sauntered about and chatted to
their heart's content of things past, present, and future.

During these wanderings, Harry confessed that his opinion of Mr.
Whyte had somewhat changed; that he believed a good deal of the first
bad impressions was attributable to his cool, not to say impolite,
reception of them; and that he thought things would go on much better
with the Indians if he would only try to let some of his good
qualities be seen through his exterior.

An expression of sadness passed over Charley's face as his friend
said this.

"You are right in the last particular," he said, with a sigh. "Mr.
Whyte is so rough and overbearing that the Indians are beginning to
dislike him. Some of the more clear-sighted among them see that a
good deal of this lies in mere manner, and have penetration enough to
observe that in all his dealings with them he is straightforward and
liberal; but there are a set of them who either don't see this, or
are so indignant at the rough speeches he often makes, and the rough
treatment he sometimes threatens, that they won't forgive him, but
seem to be nursing their wrath. I sometimes wish he was sent to a
district where the Indians and traders are, from habitual
intercourse, more accustomed to each other's ways, and so less likely
to quarrel."

"Have the Indians, then, used any open threats?" asked Harry.

"No, not exactly; but through an old man of the tribe, who is well
affected towards us, I have learned that there is a party among them
who seem bent on mischief."

"Then we may expect a row some day or other. That's pleasant!--What
think you, Hammy?" said Harry, turning to his friend.

"I think that it would be anything but pleasant," he replied; "and I
sincerely hope that we shall not have occasion for a row."

"You're not afraid of a fight, are you, Hamilton?" asked Charley.

The peculiarly bland smile with which Hamilton usually received any
remark that savoured of banter overspread his features as Charley
spoke, but he merely replied--

"No, Charley, I'm not afraid."

"Do you know any of the Indians who are so anxious to vent their
spleen on our worthy bourgeois?" asked Harry, as he seated himself on
a rocky eminence commanding a view of the richly-wooded slopes,
dotted with huge masses of rock that had fallen from the beetling
cliffs behind the creek.

"Yes, I do," replied Charley; "and, by the way, one of them--the
ringleader--is a man with whom you are acquainted, at least by name.
You've heard of an Indian called Misconna?"

"What!" exclaimed Harry, with a look of surprise; "you don't mean the
blackguard mentioned by Redfeather, long ago, when he told us his
story on the shores of Lake Winnipeg--the man who killed poor
Jacques's young wife?"

"The same," replied Charley.

"And does Jacques know he is here?"

"He does; but Jacques is a strange, unaccountable mortal. You
remember that in the struggle described by Redfeather, the trapper
and Misconna had neither of them seen each other, Redfeather having
felled the latter before the former reached the scene of action--a
scene which, he has since told me, he witnessed at a distance, while
rushing to the rescue of his wife-so that Misconna is utterly
ignorant of the fact that the husband of his victim is now so near
him; indeed, he does not know that she had a husband at all. On the
other hand, although Jacques is aware that his bitterest enemy is
within rifle-range of him at this moment, he does not know him by
sight; and this morning he came to me, begging that I would send
Misconna on some expedition or other, just to keep him out of his
way."

"And do you intend to do so?"

"I shall do my best," replied Charley; "but I cannot get him out of
the way till to-morrow, as there is to be a gathering of Indians in
the hall this very day, to have a palaver with Mr. Whyte about their
grievances, and Misconna wouldn't miss that for a trifle. But Jacques
won't be likely to recognise him among so many; and if he does, I
rely with confidence on his powers of restraint and forbearance. By
the way," he continued, glancing upwards, "it is past noon, and the
Indians will have begun to assemble, so we had better hasten back, as
we shall be expected to help in keeping order."

So saying, he rose, and the young men returned to the fort. On
reaching it they found the hall crowded with natives, who sat cross-
legged around the walls, or stood in groups conversing in low tones,
and to judge from the expression of their dark eyes and lowering
brows, they were in extremely bad humour. They became silent and more
respectful, however, in their demeanour when the young men entered
the apartment and walked up to the fireplace, in which a small fire
of wood burned on the hearth, more as a convenient means of
rekindling the pipes of the Indians when they went out than as a
means of heating the place. Jacques and Redfeather stood leaning
against the wall near to it, engaged in a whispered conversation.
Glancing round as he entered, Charley observed Misconna sitting a
little apart by himself, and apparently buried in deep thought. He
had scarcely perceived him, and nodded to several of his particular
friends among the crowd, when a side-door opened, and Mr. Whyte, with
an angry expression on his countenance, strode up to the fireplace,
planted himself before it, with his legs apart and his hands behind
him, while he silently surveyed the group.

"So," he began, "you have asked to speak with me; well, here I am.
What have you to say?"

Mr. Whyte addressed the Indians in their native tongue, having,
during a long residence in the country, learned to speak it as
fluently as English.

For some moments there was silence. Then an old chief--the same who
had officiated at the feast described in a former chapter--rose, and
standing forth into the middle of the room, made a long and grave
oration, in which, besides a great deal that was bombastic, much that
was irrelevant, and more that was utterly fabulous and nonsensical,
he recounted the sorrows of himself and his tribe, concluding with a
request that the great chief would take these things into
consideration--the principal _"things"_ being that they did not get
anything in the shape of gratuities, while it was notorious that the
Indians in other districts did, and that they did not get enough of
goods in advance, on credit of their future hunts.

Mr. Whyte heard the old man to the end in silence: then, without
altering his position, he looked round on the assembly with a frown,
and said, "Now listen to me; I am a man of few words. I have told you
over and over again, and I now repeat it, that you shall get no
gratuities until you prove yourselves worthy of them. I shall not
increase your advances by so much as half an inch of tobacco till
your last year's debts are scored off, and you begin to show more
activity in hunting and less disposition to grumble. Hitherto you
have not brought in anything like the quantity of furs that the
capabilities of the country led me to expect. You are lazy. Until you
become better hunters you shall have no redress from me."

As he finished, Mr. Whyte made a step towards the door by which he
had entered, but was arrested by another chief, who requested to be
heard. Resuming his place and attitude, Mr. Whyte listened with an
expression of dogged determination, while guttural grunts of
unequivocal dissatisfaction issued from the throats of several of the
malcontents. The Indian proceeded to repeat a few of the remarks made
by his predecessor, but more concisely, and wound up by explaining
that the failure in the hunts of the previous year was owing to the
will of the Great Manito, and not by any means on account of the
supposed laziness of himself or his tribe.

"That is false," said Mr. Whyte; "you know it is not true."

As this was said, a murmur of anger ran round the apartment, which
was interrupted by Misconna, who, apparently unable to restrain his
passion, sprang into the middle of the room, and confronting Mr.
Whyte, made a short and pithy speech, accompanied by violent
gesticulation, in which he insinuated that if redress was not granted
the white men would bitterly repent it.

During his speech the Indians had risen to their feet and drawn
closer together, while Jacques and the three young men drew near
their superior. Redfeather remained apart, motionless, and with his
eyes fixed on the ground.

"And, pray, what dog--what miserable thieving cur are you, who dare
to address me thus?" cried Mr. Whyte, as he strode, with flashing
eyes, up to the enraged Indian.

Misconna clinched his teeth, and his fingers worked convulsively
about the handle of his knife, as he exclaimed, "I am no dog. The
pale-faces are dogs. I am a great chief. My name is known among the
braves of my tribe. It is Misconna--"

As the name fell from his lips, Mr. Wiryte and Charley were suddenly
dashed aside, and Jacques sprang towards the Indian, his face livid,
his eyeballs almost bursting from their sockets, and his muscles
rigid with passion. For an instant he regarded the savage intently as
he shrank appalled before him; then his colossal fist fell like
lightning, with the weight of a sledge-hammer, on Misconna's
forehead, and drove him against the outer door, which, giving way
before the violent shock, burst from its fastenings and hinges, and
fell, along with the savage, with a loud crash to the ground.

For an instant everyone stood aghast at this precipitate termination
to the discussion, and then, springing forward in a body, with drawn
knives, the Indians rushed upon the white men, who in a close
phalanx, with such weapons as came first to hand, stood to receive
them. At this moment Redfeather stepped forward unarmed between the
belligerents, and, turning to the Indians, said--

"Listen: Redfeather does not take the part of his white friends
against his comrades. You know that he never failed you in the war-
path, and he would not fail you now if your cause were just. But the
eyes of his comrades are shut. Redfeather knows what they do not
know. The white hunter" (pointing to Jacques) "is a friend of
Redfeather. He is a friend of the Knisteneux. He did not strike
because you disputed with his bourgeois; he struck because Misconna
_is his mortal foe_. But the story is long. Redfeather will tell it
at the council fire."

"He is right," exclaimed Jacques, who had recovered his usual grave
expression of countenance; "Redfeather is right. I bear you no ill-
will, Injins, and I shall explain the thing myself at your council
fire."

As Jacques spoke the Indians sheathed their knives, and stood with
frowning brows, as if uncertain what to do. The unexpected
interference of their comrade-in-arms, coupled with his address and
that of Jacques, had excited their curiosity. Perhaps the undaunted
deportment of their opponents, who stood ready for the encounter with
a look of stern determination, contributed a little to allay their
resentment.

While the two parties stood thus confronting each other, as if
uncertain how to act, a loud report was heard just outside the
doorway. In another moment Mr. Whyte fell heavily to the ground, shot
through the heart.




CHAPTER XXVII.

The chase--The fight--Retribution--Low spirits and good news.


The tragical end of the consultation related in the last chapter had
the effect of immediately reconciling the disputants. With the
exception of four or five of the most depraved and discontented among
them, the Indians bore no particular ill-will to the unfortunate
principal of Stoney Creek; and although a good deal disappointed to
find that he was a stern, unyielding trader, they had, in reality, no
intention of coming to a serious rupture with him, much less of
laying violent hands either upon master or men of the establishment.

When, therefore, they beheld Mr. Whyte weltering in his blood at
their feet, a sacrifice to the ungovernable passion of Misconna, who
was by no means a favourite among his brethren, their temporary anger
was instantly dissipated, and a feeling of deepest indignation roused
in their bosoms against the miserable assassin who had perpetrated
the base and cowardly murder. It was, therefore, with a yell of rage
that several of the band, immediately after the victim fell, sprang
into the woods in hot pursuit of him, whom they now counted their
enemy. They were joined by several men belonging to the fort, who had
hastened to the scene of action on hearing that the people in the
hall were likely to come to blows. Redfeather was the first who had
bounded like a deer into the woods in pursuit of the fugitive. Those
who remained assisted Charley and his friends to convey the body of
Mr. Whyte into an adjoining room, where they placed him on a bed. He
was quite dead, the murderer's aim having been terribly true.

Finding that he was past all human aid, the young men returned to the
hall, which they entered just as Redfeather glided quickly through
the open doorway, and, approaching the group, stood in silence beside
them, with his arms folded on his breast.

"You have something to tell, Redfeather," said Jacques, in a subdued
tone, after regarding him a few seconds. "Is the scoundrel caught?"

"Misconna's foot is swift," replied the Indian, "and the wood is
thick. It is wasting time to follow him through the bushes."

"What would you advise then?" exclaimed Charley, in a hurried voice.
"I see that you have some plan to propose."

"The wood is thick," answered Redfeather, "but the lake and the river
are open. Let one party go by the lake, and one party by the river."

"That's it, that's it, Injin," interrupted Jacques, energetically;
"your wits are always jumpin'. By crosin' over to Duck River, we can
start at a point five or six miles above the lower fall, an' as it's
thereabouts he must cross, we'll be time enough to catch him. If he
tries the lake, the other party'll fix him there; and he'll be soon
poked up if he tries to hide in the bush."

"Come, then; we'll all give chase at once," cried Charley, feeling a
temporary relief in the prospect of energetic action from the
depressing effects of the calamity that had so suddenly befallen him
in the loss of his chief and friend.

Little time was needed for preparation. Jacques, Charley, and Harry
proceeded by the river; while Redfeather and Hamilton, with a couple
of men, launched their canoe on the lake and set off in pursuit.

Crossing the country for about a mile, Jacques led his party to the
point on the Duck River to which he had previously referred. Here
they found two canoes, into one of which the guide stepped with one
of the men, a Canadian, who had accompanied them, while Harry and
Charley embarked in the other. In a few minutes they were rapidly
descending the stream.

"How do you mean to act, Jacques?" inquired Charley, as he paddled
alongside of the guide's canoe. "Is it not likely that Misconna may
have crossed the river already? in which case we shall have no chance
of catching him."

"Niver fear," returned Jacques. "He must have longer legs than most
men if he gets to the flat-rock fall before us, an' as that's the
spot where he'll nat'rally cross the river, being the only straight
line for the hills that escapes the bend o' the bay to the south o'
Stoney Creek, we're pretty sartin to stop him there."

"True; but that being, as you say, the _natural_ route, don't you
think it likely he'll expect that it will be guarded, and avoid it
accordingly?"

"He _would_ do so, Mister Charles, if he thought we were _here_; but
there are two reasons agin this. He thinks that he's got the start o'
us, an' won't need to double by way o' deceivin' us; and then he
knows that the whole tribe is after him, and consekintly won't take a
long road when there's a short one, if he can help it. But here's the
rock. Look out, Mister Charles. We'll have to run the fall, which
isn't very big just now, and then hide in the bushes at the foot of
it till the blackguard shows himself. Keep well to the right an'
don't mind the big rock; the rush o' water takes you clear o' that
without trouble."

With this concluding piece of advice, he pointed to the fall, which
plunged over a ledge of rock about half-a-mile ahead of them, and
which was distinguishable by a small column of white spray that rose
out of it. As Charley beheld it his spirits rose, and forgetting for
a moment the circumstances that called him there, he cried out--

"I'll run it before you, Jacques. Hurrah! Give way, Harry!" and in
spite of a remonstrance from the guide, he shot the canoe ahead, gave
vent to another reckless shout, and flew, rather than glided, down
the stream. On seeing this, the guide held back, so as to give him
sufficient time to take the plunge ere he followed. A few strokes
brought Charley's canoe to the brink of the fall, and Harry was just
in the act of raising himself in the bow to observe the position of
the rocks, when a shout was heard on the bank close beside them.
Looking up they beheld an Indian emerge from the forest, fit an arrow
to his bow, and discharge it at them. The winged messenger was truly
aimed; it whizzed through the air and transfixed Harry Somerville's
left shoulder just at the moment they swept over the fall. The arrow
completely incapacitated Harry from using his arm, so that the canoe,
instead of being directed into the broad current, took a sudden turn,
dashed in among a mass of broken rocks, between which the water
foamed with violence, and upset. Here the canoe stuck fast, while its
owners stood up to their waists in the water, struggling to set it
free--an object which they were the more anxious to accomplish that
its stern lay directly in the spot where Jacques would infallibly
descend. The next instant their fears were realised. The second canoe
glided over the cataract, dashed violently against the first, and
upset, leaving Jacques and his man in a similar predicament. By their
aid, however, the canoes were more easily righted, and embarking
quickly they shot forth again, just as the Indian, who had been
obliged to make a detour in order to get within range of their
position, reappeared on the banks above, and sent another shaft after
them--fortunately, however, without effect.

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