"Snow Shoes and Canoes" (continued 6)

When in a sheltered situation, the Indians pass most severe winters in these habitations, built in the recesses of cypress groves, through which the chilling blast fails to find an entrance. Having put up the wigwam, we cleared away the grass from the interior, and then dug a slight hole in the centre, which we surrounded with the largest stones we could find. This was to form our fireplace. Four little trenches around it, leading to the bottom, would enable a sufficient current of air to enter and keep it blazing. Our next care was to cut down a good supply of spruce fir tops to form couches.

The wigwam was quite large enough for all of us, including Bouncer, and would have held another guest, leaving ample space between the feet of the sleepers and the fire. We little thought at the time how long we should require it.

As soon as it was finished, we lifted Martin up on one of the skins, and carried him into it. He was aware of what we were doing, for as I bent over him I heard him whisper, “Thank you! thank you!” but he could say no more.

The soup, which was now ready, greatly revived him, and we ourselves, after our exertions, were glad of a hearty meal.

I observed Alick, while we were seated round our fire in the wigwam, shivering several times, while he looked unusually pale.

“I am afraid you’re ill,” I said.

“Oh, it is nothing; I shall be better after supper and some sleep,” he answered. “My plunge into the cold water was somewhat trying, perhaps; and I wish I had followed your advice, and dried my clothes at once.”

I begged him to put on my coat, and to cover himself up with one of the deerskins, which was not required for Martin, while his clothes were more effectually dried. To this he at last consented, and we hung them up on the side of the fire opposite to that where Martin lay, so as not to deprive him of the warmth.

On going out into the open air, we were sensible of the great difference of temperature which existed inside the hut and outside. We found it necessary to keep the entrance open, instead of closing it with a piece of bark which we had prepared for the purpose.

Alick’s clothes were soon quite dry, when, having put them on, he stretched himself on the bed we had prepared for him. As he did so, I saw him again shiver violently several times. This made me more than ever apprehensive that he had received a chill. He confessed, indeed, that his head ached terribly, and that he felt sometimes extremely hot, and then very cold. Even a mugful of hot soup, which we got him to swallow, did not seem to do him any good; and as he was now unable to attend to Martin, I took his place.

The next morning, as I feared, though Martin was slightly better, Alick was very ill and utterly unfit to proceed on the voyage. We at once made up our minds to remain where we were for that day, or perhaps for longer if necessary. Alick, though very weak, was perfectly conscious.

“Don’t lose time,” he whispered to me; “but do you and Robin go out and try and shoot some game. If our voyage is delayed we may be running short of provisions. Pat will remain with Martin and me, for as he is no shot, he would only be throwing the ammunition away.”

Pat, who was not vain of his powers as a sportsman, readily consented to this.

“Shure, I’ll be afther taking good care of the jintleman,” he said. “If a bear or a wolf comes this way, faith, he’ll be sorry for it to the end of his days.”

Bouncer accompanied us, and he was so well-trained that he would assist us greatly should we fall in with a deer. We were more successful even than we expected, for we killed a small deer and three squirrels, and on our return saw several other animals—another deer, a raccoon lodged comfortably high up between the branches of a tree, a black fox, and a wolverine; which showed us that, should we have to remain on the spot, we were not likely to run short of provisions.

“If we have to remain out during the winter, we shall want skins of all sorts to make clothes and bed-coverings,” observed Robin.

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“Because I think that there is a great chance of our not getting to the fort before the winter sets in,” he answered. “We have already been a long time about our voyage, and I fear, both from your brother’s and Martin’s state, that we may be detained here several days. Alick’s fever is only just commencing, and Martin cannot recover in a hurry; though he’s not worse to-day, he’s very little better.”

I could not help agreeing with him, and when we got back to the camp we were both confirmed in the opinion he had expressed. Alick’s fever had increased, and Martin was still so weak that he could only just open his eyes and utter a few words in a low voice. Pat had been very attentive in feeding him with small mouthfuls of soup at a time—the best thing he could do.

Poor Alick could take nothing, though he was thankful to have his lips moistened with cold water. Robin and I felt very anxious about their condition, but we did not let them see this, and endeavoured to keep up their spirits and our own. The fresh meat we had brought was of great benefit to Martin, as Pat could make better soup with it than he had before been able to do with the dry venison. The next day we were all too much alarmed about Alick even to leave the wigwam; indeed, for several days he seemed to hang between life and death, till a turn came, and he began slowly to mend—so slowly, though, that we gave up all hopes of continuing our voyage. Martin got better rather more rapidly, and was at length able to assist in attending to Alick. He did so with the greatest care. He was aware of the gallant way, with the fearful risk of losing his own life, in which Alick had saved his.

The Indian summer—that period between the first breaking up of the real summer weather and the setting in of the frost—lasted but a few days. The leaves of the trees changed from green to varied tints of red, brown, yellow, and purple, hanging but a short time, and the first icy winds brought them in showers to the ground.

One morning, when we looked out of our wigwam, the whole face of nature was changed. The boughs of the trees were bending with the snow, and the country on every side was covered with a sheet of white. By closing the entrance of our wigwam, and keeping a fire constantly burning, we maintained a sufficient heat in the interior. The severe frost, however, of that northern region had not yet commenced; but come it would, we knew, and we talked earnestly of the means we must take to enable us to encounter it. Robin and I had been pretty successful with our guns, and we had kept our party well supplied with game. We had killed two more deer, and should have been glad to fall in with three or four bears for the sake of their skins; but, except that of the bear Alick had killed, we had no other. Still, we had reason to be thankful that we had deerskins sufficient to clothe all the party.

As Martin got better he employed himself in making some small nets of wattap, of which we obtained a plentiful supply. He had also manufactured another spear, and he proposed, as soon as he was able to go out, to attempt catching some fish.

During one of our excursions, Robin and I had reached the shore of a fine lake, in the clear water of which we had seen several large white-fish; and when we told Martin, he begged that we would take his net and spear and try to catch them.

“But they are all under the ice now, for the lake must be frozen over,” I observed.

“So much the better; you will catch them the more easily,” he answered. “All you have to do is to cut a hole in the ice, and let down the net, and the fish which will come to breathe at the open water are sure to be caught.”

As Martin himself was unable to go out, Robin and I undertook to follow his directions, at which he appeared greatly pleased. As both he and Alick seemed to wish for fish we set off at once, leaving Pat to take care of them.

We found the lake completely frozen over, and though the ice was not yet very thick, it was sufficiently so to bear our weight. With our long sheath-knives we contrived after some labour to cut a hole in the ice; we then let down one of the nets, holding tight to the upper edge. We had not long to wait, when we felt by the violent agitation of the net that a fish had been caught. We hauled it carefully in, not knowing whether the fish might escape; but it was securely fastened by the gills, and we soon had it safe. It weighed, we calculated, between six and eight pounds.

Our success encouraged us to proceed, and another fish, of a still larger size, was captured.

“This is good fun,” cried Robin. “We shall never want food while we can catch fish in this fashion.”

Again we put down the net; but though we waited long, no fish came into it. Losing patience, we agreed to cut another hole at some distance off, fancying that the fish might have been frightened at seeing their companions drawn so suspiciously out of the water. Having cut the hole, we, as before, let down the net, and shortly afterwards captured a third fish. I suspect that, had we remained at the first hole, we should have been equally successful.

The fish at this early season of the year were probably swimming about freely under the water, and did not require the fresh air which afterwards would become so welcome to them. We cut two or three other holes, and altogether caught five fish—a pretty fair load to carry home. We had the advantage, at this season of the year, of being able to keep them fresh; for they froze soon after they were taken out of the water, and would remain thus perfectly stiff till the return of spring, or till put into water, when the frost would be drawn out of them.

That evening, for supper, we had roasted fish and boiled fish, both of which Alick and Martin greatly relished. We made several trips after this to the lake, and the first day Martin was able to set out on an excursion he accompanied us. On that day we were more successful than ever, owing to his superior skill and practical experience. We each returned home heavily-laden.

Alick was still too weak to go out, but he had sufficiently recovered to take an interest in all that was going forward, as also to consider our prospects for the future.

“One thing is certain, boys: if we are to remain here, we must build a warmer abode than our present one,” he observed. “This does very well to sleep in at present; but, as you all know, we shall presently have weather when we may be frozen in our beds, even if we should manage to keep up a fire all night. We must build a log hut with a chimney of stones and clay. I wish we had thought of it before, when the ground was soft, and we could have dug up the stones and found mud to stop the intervals between the logs. We may still manage it, but there is very little time to lose, I suspect, if we are to escape the fate of the gallant Willoughby and his brave men, who were all found frozen on board their ship to the north of Lapland.”

We were all eager to do as Alick proposed, but as we had but one axe between us, it must be a slow process, I knew; and the axe might break, and the work be stopped altogether. The next morning we commenced operations by marking a number of trees suited for the purpose. Taking the axe, I began chopping away at the first tree we intended to fell. No further progress was, however, made in the work. I had given but a few strokes when I was interrupted in my task.

Chapter Eleven.

Indians abroad—The log cabin in the wilderness—The sick man—The old iron pot—The litter—Bouncer is left in a barge—Misticook’s sledge—Rabushway’s advice—Robin’s delight on discovering his father—Preparing to start—Snow-shoes and fur coats—Honest Bouncer works well in harness—Tea and sugar a luxury—Pat’s unlucky mishap—Snow-blindness—Coyotes—No food—The deserted fort—Bears and bear’s flesh—We start for Touchwood Hills—Wolves and starvation—We go supperless to bed—Thong soup—Bouncer saves his bacon.

“Whist! Mister David, whist!” exclaimed Pat, hurrying up to me. “There are Indians lurking about, and they will be sure to be afther discovering us before long. I caught sight of one of them not half an hour ago, away there down the river, as I was looking out for a bird or a baste to shoot for Mister Alick’s supper, seeing it’s fresh mate he wants more than anything else to set him up again. The redskin did not discover me, as his face was the other way; but I saw a wreath of smoke curling up among the trees on the opposite bank of the river, and it was towards it he was making his way.”

“The Indian you saw may be a friend quite as likely as a foe,” I answered, not feeling much alarmed at Pat’s report. “We must, however, find out who he is. I will consult my brother, and hear what he advises.”

“But if there are a whole band of Indians, they may come some night and take our scalps while we are aslape,” said Pat, who, though brave as need be when it came to the pinch, held the Indians in especial dread.

Shouldering the axe, I called Martin and Robin, who were selecting trees for our proposed hut at some little distance off. I told them of the information I had just received from Pat, and together we returned to the wigwam to consult Alick. He took the matter with perfect composure.

“It is important to ascertain the position of their camp, and whether there are few or many Indians,” he observed. “Pat says he has only seen one. If I were well enough I would go out myself; but as it is, I think it will be best for you, David, and Robin to accompany Pat, and to try and get a sight of the camp. As they must, if we remain here, discover us before long, it will be wise to try and get on friendly terms with them. It is possible that they may be well disposed towards the white men, and have been accustomed to trade at the forts. If you can get near their camp without being discovered as evening approaches, you will be able to ascertain how many there are of them, and to what tribe they belong. If you know them to be friends, you can at once go up to them and sit down at their fire. If you are doubtful, it may be better for Robin alone to make his appearance. You, Robin, can tell them that a party of white men, who wish to become their friends, are encamped near.”

“I am very ready to do whatever you propose,” answered Robin. “I shall have no fear of going among them, whoever they may be, and I fully believe they are likely to prove friends.”

“Should such be the case, tell them that we shall be able to assist each other. If they have no firearms they can track out the game for us, and we can shoot it and share the meat; and say that we will reward them liberally for any aid they may render us,” said Alick.

Our plan of proceeding was soon arranged. Leaving Bouncer with Alick and Martin, Pat, Robin, and I set out towards the spot where the former had seen the Indian. We then crept forward in single file, carefully concealing ourselves among the bushes, and before long saw a wreath of smoke such as Pat had described curling up amid the trees at no great distance off.

Though Alick had advised us to wait till sundown, as we saw no one moving about and the nature of the ground afforded us sufficient concealment, we advanced farther, when what was our surprise, as we got round a thickly wooded point, to see, not an Indian wigwam, but a substantially built log cabin, with a stone chimney, from which the smoke was ascending.

“The inhabitants, whoever they are, are not likely to be unfriendly,” exclaimed Robin. “Let us go across the river at once and announce ourselves.”

“The Indians may possibly have taken possession of the log hut, and we should follow Alick’s directions,” I observed.

“Then, as it seems doubtful, let me go alone,” said Robin. “That will be doing as Alick desired me, and I have no fear about the matter.”

While Robin was speaking, an Indian appeared at the door, whom we at once knew from his appearance to be an Ojibbeway, and therefore a friend to the English. He retired again into the hut.

This settled all our doubts as to the reception we were likely to meet with. Crossing the river, which was here strongly frozen over, we made our way towards the hut. As we advanced we observed the remains of other buildings, and I now felt sure that it was a deserted missionary station of which I had heard but had never visited, as it lay out of the direct route between the forts.

Who the inhabitants of the hut could be we could not surmise. Probably they were weatherbound travellers like ourselves.

“If Sandy and the other men hadn’t been drowned, bedad, I should be afther thinking it was themselves,” observed Pat.

I greatly hoped that our friend Sandy had escaped, and that we should find him occupying the hut. It stood a little way back from the river, on a piece of level ground, surrounded by trees whose branches were now weighed down with the snow. Climbing up the bank, we were approaching the door, when our footsteps must have been heard, for it opened, and the same Indian we had before seen appeared, gun in hand.

On discovering that we were whites, he turned round and uttered a few words, as if addressing some other person within.

“You friends!” he exclaimed; “glad see you.”

“Yes, indeed we are, and very glad to see you,” I answered, advancing and putting out my hand. He took it, and then went through the same ceremony with Robin and Pat.

“Come in; but not make much noise,” he said, looking over his shoulder; “sick man in there—very sick; glad to see you; maybe you do him good.”

“I hope that we may,” I said, as I advanced into the hut, followed by Robin and Pat.

A fire was blazing on the hearth, and with his feet towards it lay a tall man on a low rough bunk covered over with a buffalo-robe. I saw that a number of things were piled up in the corner of the hut, but the scanty furniture was of the roughest description. The whole was comprised in a table formed of a slab of fir and a couple of three-legged stools.

“Who are you, friends?” asked the sick man on the bunk, feebly raising his head to look at us.

There was no window in the hut to admit light, but the fire showed a bright glare on the countenance of the speaker. It was thin and worn, and deadly pale; it seemed to me as I gazed at him that he could have but a few days to live.

Drawing near and sitting down on one of the stools which he bade me take, I briefly told him of the capture of Fort Black, and of our several mishaps while endeavouring to make our way to Fort Ross. I added that my brother and a friend were at the camp a short distance off, but that the former was too ill to venture on the journey at this inclement season of the year, and that we were about to build a hut in which we might pass the winter.

“You are welcome to share this hut with me, or rather you have as much right to it as I have, except that possession is said to be nine-tenths of the law,” he answered. “However, I will not dispute your right, and should be very glad of your company, especially if you bring provisions; for though I have enough for myself and my faithful Ojibbeways, I could not undertake to feed five more mouths.”

I assured him that we should be very unwilling to exhaust his store; that we had sufficient meat to last us for some time.

While I was speaking, I saw him looking at Robin and Pat, but he asked no questions about them. I told him that we must now return to the camp, or my brother would be growing anxious, and that I hoped we should be able to join him the next day, provided that Alick was well enough to bear the journey.

“You should not delay,” he remarked, “for we may expect the winter to set in shortly with far greater rigour than hitherto, and your brother might suffer from being exposed to it.”

“May I venture to ask how you came to be here?” I said, as I was preparing to go.

“By a very simple accident,” he answered. “I was on a hunting expedition with several followers when, while in the neighbourhood, I was suddenly seized with an illness. Most of my followers took it into their heads that it was the smallpox, and deserted me, with the exception of two Ojibbeways, who remained faithful and brought me to this hut, of the existence of which they were aware, having received instruction here when it was occupied by a missionary. We found it in a very dilapidated condition; but they repaired the roof and rendered it habitable. Had it not been for their care I should have died, and I am still, as you see, hovering between life and death. Don’t let me detain you.”

The voice and language of the person whom we found in this deplorable state convinced me that he was a gentleman. I felt, however, unwilling to leave him longer under the care of the Indians, for I saw what he said about himself was too true, and I feared that even before we could return he might die. I proposed leaving Robin with him, and Robin himself said that he should very much like to remain; but then I recollected that we should require four persons to carry Alick, and that he could not be spared.

The sick man’s eyes were again turned towards Robin as I spoke.

“Strange!” I heard him mutter to himself. “It must be but fancy, though.”

I again expressed my regret that none of us could remain.

“I would not detain you,” he answered. “Your companion requires probably more care than I do. I have only to lie here and suffer. My medicine-chest is well-nigh exhausted, and I must now trust to nature. Farewell! I hope to see you all to-morrow.”

He spoke in the tone of a gentleman inviting a party of guests to his house. We took our departure, and hurried back as fast as we could go. The shades of evening were rapidly increasing; the cold was becoming intense. We were not likely to lose our way, but that was possible, and the consequences might be serious.

“There is something strange in the tone of his voice,” observed Robin, as he walked by my side. “I could almost fancy that I had heard it before, and yet I don’t remember ever seeing anybody like him.”

Before I could answer, Robin had to fall behind me to follow in my trail, and, indeed, we had to move too rapidly to allow of any conversation. It was becoming darker and darker, and I anxiously looked out for the camp-fire, which I felt sure Martin would keep up to guide us on our way. I should have been thankful could we have moved into warm quarters that night, for I feared that Alick would suffer from the cold.

It was a great relief when I at length caught sight of a bright light between the trunks of the trees, as I knew that it must proceed from our camp-fire. We hurried on, and found Martin busily employed in cooking supper. He had made some soup for Alick. I don’t know what we should have done without that old iron pot. He had also lighted a small fire in the centre of our wigwam, which of course required constant attention, lest any sparks should reach the inflammable materials of which our habitation was composed.

“What news?” asked Martin, looking up from his occupation. “Don’t stop to tell me here—it’s wonderfully cold; but go inside, and I’ll come and hear all about it. Pat, you carry the pot, and I’ll bring in the roast. You’ll want some food, I suspect, after your expedition.”

We followed his advice. Pat took off the pot, and we were all soon seated round our wigwam with the entrance carefully closed. Alick was of course much surprised to hear the account we gave him, and declared that he should be perfectly ready to set off the next morning; he would go on his own feet if he could, but if not he must ask us to carry him.

“Shure, it’s not on your own feet you’re going, Mister Alick,” observed Pat; “we’ll build you an illigant litther, and carry you on our four shoulders.”

Alick felt conscious that the journey would surpass his powers, and thanked Pat for his good intentions. The Irishman, who was sincerely attached to my brother, proposed immediately setting to work to form a litter, and in spite of the cold, as soon as supper was over he went out with the axe on his shoulder; and, aided by the light of the fire, he cut two long saplings and several smaller pieces, with which he returned to the hut.

Before they lay down to sleep, he and Martin put together a litter well suited for carrying Alick. I was thankful the next morning to find my brother so much better, and as soon as we had had some breakfast, having stretched one of the skins over the litter, we placed him on it, covering him up carefully with the others.

Not till we were about to start did we think of the danger to which our camp would be exposed by being left without any protection.

“Shure, Bouncer will look afther that,” said Pat. “Here, Bouncer, see that not a wolf, or a grizzly, or an Indian, or any other brute comes to our camp till we are back again to carry off the things.”

The dog clearly understood him, and set himself down at the entrance of our wigwam. We then, taking up Alick, commenced our journey to the log hut.

Considerable as was the cold, the excursion we had to make kept us warm, and Alick, being well covered up, did not suffer from it. We felt much anxiety as we approached our destination with regard to the sick stranger, and I was prepared as we got up to the door to hear the worst.

I was greatly relieved when the Indian, appearing at the door, told us that the gentleman was no worse. Sitting up in his bunk, he welcomed us with a languid smile, and begged that we would place Alick by his side near the fire.

We had brought the iron pot at Martin’s request, that he might make some soup for the two invalids.

“We want you to assist in bringing our provisions from the camp,” I observed.

“Oh! then let me attend to the soup,” exclaimed Robin. “I don’t want to shirk my duty.”

As Martin was now perfectly recovered, he agreed to Robin’s proposal.

“The lad will be able to attend to all our wants,” remarked the sick man, who seemed pleased that Robin should remain. He then turned to the Ojibbeway, and desired him to accompany us, observing that Rabushway, the other Indian, had gone out hunting in the morning, and would probably not return till late. Misticook, the Indian we found at the hut, expressed his readiness to accompany us, and he, Martin, Pat, and I set off at once for our camp.

In broad daylight the journey appeared much shorter than it had done the previous evening. As we got up to the camp, I examined it with no little anxiety, fearing that during our absence a prowling bear or band of more ferocious wolves might have broken into it, and carried off our provisions, though I knew that Bouncer would have fought to the death before he allowed them to approach. My fears were at an end when he came rushing out with a cheerful bark to welcome us, wagging his tail and leaping up to assure us that all was safe.

Martin and I at once began making up the packages to carry on our backs.

“That not do; I no carry these things,” observed Misticook.

“Arrah! thin, why in the name of wonder did you come?” exclaimed Pat.

“You see, I show better way,” answered the Indian, and forthwith taking his axe from his belt, he chopped two branches from a neighbouring tree, about ten feet long, turning up at the ends. He then adroitly secured several cross-pieces a little more than a foot long, and in a short time had manufactured a rough sledge. To this he lastly fastened some of the thongs which he had brought with him, to serve as traces.

“Now what you carry?” he asked.

We showed him the packages we had done up. Nearly as much again remained, for which we had intended to return. He placed the whole of it on the sledge, securing it firmly.

“Now ready,” he said, and started off.

We took a look round, to see that nothing was left behind, and then followed, but found it difficult to keep up with Misticook, who glanced round every now and then in triumph at us.

“I wish that we also had made a sledge,” said Martin; “we might have saved ourselves a good deal of trouble.”

However, our pride would not allow us to give in, and we managed to reach the hut soon after the Indian.

We found Robin seated by the side of the sick man, who had fallen asleep. Robin put up his finger as a sign to us not to make any noise. We placed our packages with the other things already there, against the walls, as well as those which had been brought on the sleigh.

I then observed that there were a number of buffalo-robes and a small tent, and several other articles of traveller’s gear. Alick seemed much better.

“I shall be all to rights in a few days, I hope,” he said; “but I fear that the days of the poor man there are numbered. He has spoken but little during your absence though I remarked that his eyes were continually falling upon Robin as he moved about the hut.”

“We shall see how he is when he awakes. In the meantime, as you must be hungry, I advise you to take the food Robin has prepared.”

We very gladly followed the advice, and then lay down to rest.

In the evening Rabushway, the other Ojibbeway, returned with a ground-squirrel, the only animal he had shot; the previous day he had killed nothing; he reported that game was very scarce. Knowing that we were coming to the hut, he expressed no surprise at seeing us. He, however, did not look very well pleased.

“If you wish to live, you must go out and shoot,” he observed, “or else we all starve.”

“We will do what we can, depend on that,” I answered; and Martin and I agreed to accompany him the next morning.

The sick man slept on and on, till at last I began to fear that he would not awake. At length, greatly to my relief, I heard him speaking to Robin, and I went up to the side of his bunk to inquire how he felt.

“As I have done for several days,” he answered.

Robin, who had gone to the fire, brought him some broth.

“This will restore your strength, sir,” he said, “for it has done Alick much good.”

The sick man took it with a faint smile, for he doubted whether anything would do him good.

“Your elder brother will, I hope, soon be well,” he observed. “He only requires food and rest.”

“He is not my brother,” answered Robin; on which, thinking it might interest the sick man, he briefly described how he had been carried off by the Indians, and finally, having made his escape from them, been brought to Fort Black.

The stranger was evidently listening with intense interest.

“Tell me, boy,” he exclaimed, interrupting him—“have you no recollection of your parents? What’s your name?”

“Oh yes, indeed I have. I remember them well—my father and mother, and my sister Ella, and little brother Oliver. My name is Robin Grey!”

Almost before the words were out of his mouth, the sick man stretched out his arms, exclaiming—

“I thought it was so. Come here, my boy. I am your father. Long and almost hopelessly I have searched for you.”

Robin embraced his father. “O papa, I remember you now,” he answered, “though you look so ill and sad; but you must get well, you must not die; and dear mamma and Ella and Oliver?”

“They were quite well when I left them many months ago; though your poor mother has never ceased to mourn for your loss,” answered Captain Grey. “I could not bear to see her suffering, and year after year, since you were lost, I have set off in search of you, returning home only when driven back by the winter. While I lay here I believed that I must abandon all hopes of restoring you to your mother’s arms; and, ungrateful as I was, a merciful Providence has brought you to me.”

“O papa! papa! I am so happy,” cried Robin. “You must get well, and we’ll go back together to mamma and dear little Ella and Oliver.”

Captain Grey smiled faintly.

“You must pray with me to God that He will restore me, for He alone has the power,” he answered; “and we must never again mistrust His providence.”

This unexpected meeting between Robin and his father gave us all sincere pleasure, and made us acknowledge that our course had been directed by a Superior Power. I cannot but suppose that Robin’s arrival at that very moment had the effect of giving a turn to his father’s complaint; though, for several days, we perceived no change in him.

All we could see was that he was not worse.

Alick rapidly recovered, and in the course of a week was on foot and able to face the wintry cold.

A heavy fall of snow prevented us from leaving the hut, so we employed the time in manufacturing snow-shoes, without which we saw that it would be impossible to go in search of game. On examining our store of provisions, we found that unless we could kill some large game—either a buffalo, a deer, or a bear—we should be compelled to trespass on Captain Grey’s stock.

Alick and I discussed the matter when we were out together.

“I see no other alternative, should we fail to obtain an abundance of meat, than to push on at once to Fort Ross,” he observed. “You and I and Martin and Pat must go. I shall be very sorry to part from Robin, but we must, of course, leave him with his father, and endeavour as soon as possible to send them assistance. I wish that we could find a doctor to send to them, for I fear that the captain will not recover without medical aid. As it is, should the two Ojibbeways be unsuccessful in hunting, they will be very hard pressed for food.”

I agreed in this with Alick, but I thought that Captain Grey would get well in the course of time, without a doctor. I hoped so, indeed, for there was but little prospect of our finding one.

As soon as the weather cleared, Alick, Martin, and I set off on snow-shoes with our guns, but returned without having seen even the trace of an animal. For three days in succession we went out, but came back as unsuccessful as at first. We accordingly, as we had determined, told Captain Grey of our proposal to start forthwith for Fort Ross.

He appeared to be very unwilling to let us go.

“I don’t wish to detain you on my own account, though I shall be sorry to lose your society,” he said, “but Robin will be very solitary without your companionship; and should death overtake me, I dread to think of the situation the poor boy will be left in with these two Indians alone.”

We endeavoured to raise the captain’s spirits by promising to send him aid, and pointing out to him that our plan was the best for all parties. We at length succeeded, and as he consented to our proposal, we made immediate preparations for our departure. We first set to work to manufacture fresh knapsacks, with one of which each of us was provided, as also fur coats and caps, that we might be enabled the better to withstand the cold, to which we must inevitably be exposed.

Our snow-shoes were strengthened for the long tramp we had in prospect. Fortunately we found a sleigh in the hut, the wood of which was in good condition. It was simply a thin board, twelve feet long, twelve inches broad, and turned up at one end, from the top of which end to the hinder part, two thin poles were fixed on either side for the purpose of fastening the thongs by which the baggage carried on it was to be secured.

We also manufactured some harness from buffalo thongs for Bouncer, who was destined to drag it. Pat undertook to drag the sledge which Misticook had made to bring the provisions from our camp. The captain insisted that we should take the tent, as it was but small, and would greatly contribute to our comfort; and he also gave us a further supply of powder and shot, of which we had run short.

The morning we had arranged to start arrived. It was snowing, but not sufficiently heavy to delay us. We had tried Bouncer twice before, and he seemed fully to understand the duty required of him. Pat, who was less accustomed to snow-shoes than the rest of us, practised himself frequently, that he might perform the journey without any inconvenience. Robin had been too stoically brought up among the Indians to exhibit the sorrow he felt at seeing us depart, but he was satisfied that it was his duty to remain with his father. After shaking us all by the hand, he resumed his seat by the side of the captain, apparently being unwilling actually to witness our start.

The two Indians came out of the hut to give us their final advice as to how, under various circumstances, we should act. While Alick was securing the cargo of Bouncer’s sleigh, and I held the brave dog, who once having got on the harness, was eager to set out. Pat led the way with his sleigh to make a road, the direction we were to take having before been arranged.

“Good-bye! good-bye!” we cried to the Indians, and away we started, Martin following Pat, while I went just ahead of Bouncer, and Alick brought up the rear, It continued to snow harder than we liked, though as there was but little wind, we did not in consequence suffer. Pat, whose sleigh was but lightly laden, went on bravely, he having wisely placed his knapsack and gun upon it. We, having heavier weights to carry, had at first some difficulty in keeping up with him; and as we were compelled to proceed in Indian file, we could hold but little conversation with each other.

Bouncer needed no whip, but followed closely at my heels, assisted by Alick when any hill had to be surmounted.

At first we kept along the margin of the river; then having ascended the bank, we found ourselves on level ground, covered by an almost unbroken sheet of snow, here and there only a line of trees showing themselves above the wide expanse of white.

Captain Grey had given Alick a compass, which much assisted us in directing our course. The snow ceased about noon, and we halted in the open plain, to enjoy what was decidedly a cold collation, for there was no wood to light a fire, and we did not think it worth while to unpack our sleigh to put up the tent.

We were more fortunate in the evening in reaching a thick grove, sheltered by which we encamped. On Pat’s sleigh were three short poles, over which the little tent was stretched. It was large enough to allow us four, with Bouncer, to creep inside, while the sleighs were placed one on one side and one on the other, to prevent the canvas from being blown away.

We made up our fire at a sufficient distance from the tent, to avoid the risk of the flames catching it.

Captain Grey had supplied us with some tea and sugar, and I shall never forget how much we enjoyed the warm beverage, after our long tramp across the snow.

Having taken a good meal, we all turned in, wrapped in our buffalo-robes, knowing that Bouncer would warn us should any enemy approach. The only enemies we had to dread were bears or wolves, and we should not have objected to be visited by one of the former, provided we had time to get a fair shot at it.

Nothing occurred that night to disturb our repose, and we arose in good spirits, anticipating a successful termination to our journey. In the morning the sky was clear, and the sun glanced brightly over the glittering sheet of snow. It was perfectly calm, and we trudged on cheerfully, every now and then exchanging remarks with each other. We had been walking for some hours, and had agreed that it would soon be time to stop for dinner, when Martin complained of a peculiar pricking in the eyelids.

“Shure, it’s the same sort of thing I’ve been feeling,” exclaimed Pat. “It’s mighty unpleasant, but I thought I’d say nothing about it.”

It did not occur to me at the time that the symptoms were those which precede snow-blindness, and Alick was too far behind to hear what was said. I had found the glare of the sun unpleasant, and had drawn the front of my cap somewhat over my eyes, which I kept partially closed, fixing them only on Martin’s dark coat, which served to guide me. It was owing to this that I did not experience the sensations of which my companions complained.

Nothing more was said on the subject for some time, and Pat went forward at his usual pace.

The ground became at length rather more uneven than before, but Pat manfully dragged forward his sleigh without complaining; and Alick, who, though coming last, was really directing us like a helmsman at the wheel, seemed to consider that we were going right.

Presently I heard a cry, and looking over Martin’s shoulder, I saw Pat’s legs in the air, and the sleigh, the hinder part of which Martin had just caught hold of, tipping up, as if about to follow the Irishman down the hollow into which it was evident he had fallen. I sprang forward as fast as my snow-shoes would allow me, to catch hold of the sleigh, when what was my dismay to see Pat’s feet disappear altogether beneath the snow, his stifled cries alone reaching my ears.

“He has fallen into a deep pit, I fear,” cried Martin.

“He’ll be smothered if we don’t dig him out quickly,” I said.

Martin and I, going ahead of the sleigh, hauled away at the traces which were secured round Pat’s body, but in our efforts to haul him out they broke. We became seriously alarmed, for the snow falling in completely concealed Pat from sight.

Alick, seeing what had happened, came hurrying up ahead of Bouncer, who sagaciously halted. Every moment of delay was of consequence, but before we could do anything we had to take off our snow-shoes. Alick then holding on to the sledge, which we brought close to the side of the pit, plunged into it, feeling with his hands in the hopes of catching hold of one of Pat’s feet, while we shovelled away, lying flat with our heads and shoulders over the hollow, endeavouring to throw out the snow.

“I feel one of Pat’s shoes!” cried Alick at length. “Here is a foot! Pass the broken trace down to me.”

We did as he directed. Presently we caught sight of another foot which was still moving about, showing that the owner was not yet altogether suffocated.

I succeeded in getting hold of it.

“Now, haul away!” cried Alick. “We mustn’t mind how we get him out, provided he comes out.”

We pulled and pulled, the snow slipping in around us, and at length the Irishman’s legs came into view, though, as Alick was on one side of the hole and I on the other, their owner must have suffered no little inconvenience and pain. As soon, however, as Alick could get on firmer ground, the body quickly followed, and at length we heard Pat’s voice in smothered tones exclaiming, “Shure, if you pull my legs off, I’ll niver be able to walk again at all, at all!”

“Never mind your legs, if we can get your head out,” answered Alick, laughing.

We saw that Pat was not likely to be much the worse for the adventure, and in a few seconds we got him safe out of the hole, and in a few more he was all to rights, and we helped him put on his snow-shoes, which were fortunately not broken. His cap had stuck to his head, and he had not even lost his mitts.

“Bedad! I thought I was niver going to stop till I got to the bottom of the airth! I’m mighty obliged to yese, for if ye hadn’t caught me I should have been going on still,” said Pat, shaking the snow from his fur dress.

We again put on our snow-shoes, while Pat was knotting the traces. Making a circuit to avoid the pit, which was of considerable extent, we proceeded as before. We had gone two or three miles farther, and were near a wood, when Pat cried out, “For the life of me it’s more than I can do to see the way,” and Martin confessed that he also had almost lost his sight.

I told Alick what they said.

“It is snow-blindness,” he answered—“a serious matter. We must camp without delay. Do you go on, David, ahead of Pat, and show the way.”

I told Pat, who was stumbling on, to stop while I took the lead of the train. He then easily followed, and Martin kept after his sledge. We went on in this way till we reached the wood for which I was steering.

On getting under its shelter we lost no time in putting up the tent, in which we immediately placed our two now perfectly blind companions. Alick and I had cause to be thankful that we had not suffered in the same way.

How dreadful would have been our fate had the whole party been struck by snow-blindness!

Alick remembered to have heard that the only cure was to bathe the eyes in cold water, and to remain under shelter. We might thus be delayed for several days, but as we could not tell that we should not be attacked in the same way, we thought this better than attempting to reach Fort Ross without stopping. We lighted a fire, and put some snow into the pot to melt. We had abundance of food for the journey, so that the delay on that account was not of much consequence, though we might have to go on short commons at the end of it.

Our blind companions found great relief from bathing their eyes. We had to take the pot again and again to the fire, as it rapidly cooled and began to freeze. All arrangements having been made, Alick took his gun, and went out in the hopes of finding some game in the wood. Late in the evening he returned without having shot anything. Another whole day passed, and on the third, as Martin began to see a little, leaving Bouncer to assist him in taking care of the camp, I accompanied Alick.

We had been out some hours when we caught sight of a small deer, to which we gave chase. It kept a long way ahead of us, but we followed its trail, determined, at all costs, to have it. It stopped several times, and at last, we having got within range, Alick was tempted to fire.

His shot took effect, but the deer bounded off, though we saw by the crimson stains on the snow that it was severely wounded; still it kept ahead of us, and disappeared behind a grove of larches.

Feeling pretty sure that it would seek for shelter in the wood, and knowing that we could always trace it, as we were both weary of our long run, we sat down for a few minutes to rest.

“Now,” cried Alick, “well go and get the deer.”

Again we started off, but had not gone many paces when we heard the faint sounds of yelping and barking. The trail was clear enough, but the deer, though wounded, had evidently gone at a great pace. In a short time we discovered that the trail had been joined by that of several other animals coming from the right hand and the left, which we at once knew to be wolves.

“We shall lose our venison, I fear, if we don’t make haste,” said Alick.

The yelping and barking sounds increased in loudness, when we saw ahead of us, amid the snow, a flashing of tails and flying hair, and directly afterwards a dozen or more dark forms, all tugging and snarling and occasionally biting at each other, evidently employed in pulling away at a body on the ground.

They were “coyotes,” or small prairie-wolves; but though small, they exhibit wonderful activity and power of swallowing. By the time we got up to the brutes they had devoured every particle of the deer, and nothing remained but a well-picked skeleton, from which they slunk off when we were almost close enough to knock them over with the butts of our guns. They were not worth shooting, so we let them go, and, bitterly disappointed, set off to return to our camp. We had no difficulty in finding our way, but it was trying to have lost our game after so long a chase, especially as we greatly needed the venison both for ourselves and Bouncer, who required to be well fed.

The next morning Pat, as well as Martin, had sufficiently recovered to set off again. By Alick’s advice we fastened some dark handkerchiefs over our faces, with two minute holes in them through which we could look. We could, however, see only directly before us, unless, we turned our heads.

We had been compelled to use up the greater portion of our food during these four days’ delay. On the evening of the fifth day after leaving the camp at which we had so long remained, we found ourselves approaching Fort Ross.

All our troubles, we hoped, would now be at an end. We had exhausted the remainder of our pemmican and dried meat at the last, meal we had taken at noon, having given Bouncer a larger portion than usual. That did not matter. We were about to be welcomed by our friends, and to enjoy an abundance. We all felt hungry, and could not help talking of the warm supper which would soon be placed before us. We therefore trudged cheerfully forward, Pat every now and then giving forth one of his merry Irish songs.

At last the flanking towers of Fort Ross came into view through the dim twilight, but no flag was flying, nor did we see anybody moving about.

“Of course they hauled down the flag at sunset,” said Martin, “but I wonder they didn’t see us. They would be sure to be keeping a lookout.”

Alick made no remark. I expected every instant to see Mr Meredith or some of the garrison come out to welcome us.

The gate was reached, but no one appeared. We knocked and shouted, and Bouncer barked. No answer came, neither to his nor our calls.

“The fort is deserted!” I exclaimed. “What dreadful event can have happened?”

“Mr Meredith for some reason or other was ordered to retire. Had the Indians captured the fort, the gate would have been left open,” observed Alick.

“The sooner we get in and ascertain what has occurred, the better,” said Martin.

“Faix, thin, if you’ll give me a lift I’ll soon find out,” said Pat, taking off his snow-shoes.

The poles of the tent were placed against the gate, and with our help Pat climbed them till he could reach the top with his hands, when, drawing himself up, he got his head and shoulders over.

“Sorra a man do I see,” he cried out, “but, bedad, there’s a black baste waddling along on the opposite side. There’s another, and another. They’re bears, and seem to be the only garrison left in the place. Just hand me up my gun, plase, for I should not like having them coming to turn me out without the manes of disputing the matther.”

We handed Pat up his gun, when he immediately slipped down inside and made haste to undo the fastenings of the gate.

It was opened, and we hurried in, dragging the sledges after us. We loosened Bouncer, that he might be able to do battle should any of the bears venture to attack us. They, however, the very moment we had arrived, were, so it seemed to us, on the point of evacuating the fort, and the last of them must have climbed over the palisades while Pat was engaged in undoing the door. We conjectured that their object in coming to the fort was to search for food.

Having entered, we again closed the door and took possession of one of the rooms, in which was a large stove. Fortunately there was a small store of wood remaining, with which we lighted a fire, and had there been food we should have been perfectly comfortable.

Why our friends had deserted the fort it was difficult to determine.

Martin thought that it was on account of want of provisions. Alick held to the opinion that they were required to strengthen the garrison of some more important fort.

I suspected that Mr Meredith, having heard of the destruction of Fort Black, and believing that Fort Ross would be attacked, and that he possessed inadequate means of defending it, had thought it prudent to retire to another post.

“Surely they would not have gone away without leaving some notice for us behind them, even although they were unable to spare any provisions, should we arrive here,” I said.

“They also probably believed that we were all destroyed,” said Alick, “and would not have thought about us.”

“Whether or not, gintlemen, I’ll just take the liberty of hunting about, and seeing if I cannot ferret out some food or other,” exclaimed Pat. “If these bastes of bears haven’t broken into the pantry, maybe there will be a scrap of something or other to stay our stomachs.”

Saying this, Pat lighted the end of a piece of pinewood, and set off on his search. Though we had but little hope of finding anything eatable, we followed his example, and searched in every nook and corner of the fort.

Not a particle of food of any description could we find, which confirmed the opinion Martin had expressed that our friends had been compelled to desert the fort from the want of provisions. Indeed, when I came to think of the matter, I did not believe that Mr Meredith could have been frightened away by fear of an attack from Indians.

As I was returning to the sitting-room across the square, the light from my torch showed me a dark form creeping along near the stockade. I felt sure that it was a bear which had not succeeded in making its escape. I hurried in for my gun, which I had left in the room where Bouncer was lying down by the fire. My companions were at the time in different parts of the fort.

I was afraid of calling to them, for fear of frightening the bear; so, taking my gun in one hand and the torch in the other, I crept forward in the direction in which I had seen the animal. Again I caught sight of him attempting to climb up the palisade.

I advanced a few steps. Whether or not he saw me I could not tell. Marking well the spot, I dropped my torch, and raising my gun to my shoulder, fired.

By the faint light of the almost expiring torch I saw a huge body fall.

The report of the gun of course quickly brought out the rest of the party, when, all of us hurrying forward, to our infinite satisfaction we saw the bear on the ground struggling to get up. My bullet had missed his head, but broken his shoulder. Alick and Martin immediately fired, and the bear’s struggles ceased.

“Be aisy, gintlemen; he may not be dead afther all,” cried Pat, advancing cautiously with his torch.

I reloaded my gun, in case Pat should be right in his conjecture; but the bear gave no signs of life, and getting up to him we found that he was quite dead.

We lost no time in skinning him, and as soon as we had done so Martin cut a few choice pieces out of the carcass, and hastened back with them to the fire, while we finished the operation. He was a young animal, less active or sagacious than his companions.

We at once carried the meat and skin into the house, where Martin had some steaks ready for us. We lay down after supper with thankful hearts that a supply of meat had been so providentially sent to us.

Bouncer had his share, and then composed himself to sleep near the door, with one eye open ready to warn us of the approach of danger.

Feeling sure that no unfriendly Indians were likely to be in the neighbourhood at that season of the year, we passed the night with a feeling of perfect security.

We had now to determine what further course it would be best to pursue. The meat of the young bear would last us for several days, and perhaps some of its companions might return to the fort and allow themselves to be shot; but the probability was, however, slight. Finding that there was no food and that the fort was garrisoned, they were not likely again to climb over the palisades. Should they not do so we might, after all, be very hard pressed for food.

“What do you say, lads, to pushing forward at once to the fort at Touchwood Hills? The journey is a long one, but we are likely to find game on the way; and if not, the flesh of this bear economised will last us till we get there,” said Alick.

There were no dissentient voices. We agreed, however, to rest that day and keep watch, on the possibility of another bear appearing. None came, and early in the morning we again plunged into the wilderness of snow.

For two days we travelled on without any adventure, looking out for game as we had before done. The second day we encamped rather earlier than usual, as we saw traces of several deer, which we resolved if possible to run down.

Having hurriedly pitched our tent near a small wood, Alick, Martin, and I started off, leaving Pat and Bouncer to guard the camp. Pat had his gun ready, observing that perhaps a deer would come that way, and if so he might hope to kill it.

Though no deer were in sight, their tracks were unmistakable, and we were tempted to go on farther from the camp than we had intended. As the sun set, the wind began to blow colder than before, and clouds to gather in the sky. Alick exclaimed that we must return as fast as our legs could carry us.

Before we had got far, down came the snow, and with good reason we began to fear that we should be unable to retrace our steps. As long as we had sufficient light Alick’s compass guided us, and we had taken the last glance at it, and were scarcely able to distinguish in what direction the needle pointed, when we caught sight of the tent, and heard Pat’s voice shouting loudly to us.

We hurried on, thankful that we had not been benighted; but Pat, instead of welcoming us, as we expected, stood in front of the tent wringing his hands.

“What’s the matter, Pat?” asked Alick.

“Shure! matther enough, Misther Alick dear,” he answered. “Just afther you went away, Bouncer and I caught sight of a deer, far off over the snow. Says I to Bouncer, ‘We’ll have that deer;’ and off we set, making sure that we should come up to him before long. Instead of stopping to be shot, however, the baste took to its heels. To make a long story short, though we followed for many a mile, it got away afther all. Now comes the worst part of the business. As we drew near to the tent I heard a loud yelling, and what should I see but a pack of hungry wolves tearing away at my sledge with all the bear’s mate on it, and by the time I got up not a scrap was left—bad luck to the bastes. Och! shure, shure, what shall we be afther doing?”

We cast blank looks at each other, and Bouncer hung down his head, as if he had been the cause of our loss. Alick could not blame Pat, though he regretted that he did not give him a strict charge on no account to leave the camp.

After our long chase we were desperately hungry, but had not a morsel to eat. There was no use repining, however, and we hoped that we might have better fortune the next day.

Supperless we turned into our little tent, to try to overcome our hunger by sleep. An occasional growl from Bouncer showed us that the wolves were still near.

As we had no breakfast to cook, the next morning we started as soon as there was daylight sufficient to enable us to pack up our tent. Not a trace of a deer did we see the next day; had any passed that way, the snow must have obliterated their footmarks.

The second night was approaching, and we had no food. We came to some hills with a grove of trees near a stream at their foot, but the stream was frozen over, and the hills and trees covered thickly with snow.

As we were looking round for a spot on which to pitch our tent, we heard Pat, who was at a little distance, shout out, “Here’s an Injin wigwam; maybe the owner will give us some food.” On reaching it, however, we found that the wigwam contained no inhabitants. There were, however, several articles within, the household goods of a native—a pot, wallet, basket, buffalo-robe, and other things.

At first we thought that the owner had gone out hunting, and would soon return, but on a further examination we were satisfied that it had been deserted for several days, or perhaps weeks. Too probably, the unfortunate man had lost his life, either killed by a bear or a human enemy, or, unable to obtain game, had perished from hunger.

Alick suggested that the occupants might have died of some disease, and that it would be prudent to pitch our tent and sleep in that, rather than in the wigwam.

Having cut some wood, we lighted a fire and chopped up the thongs of Pat’s sledge to make some soup. Though very unpalatable, it would serve to keep us alive; it, at all events, stopped the gnawings of hunger and enabled us to go to sleep.

We were awakened towards the morning by the howling of the wind amid the leafless trees and the falling of the snow from the branches. Looking out of the tent, we could scarcely bear the chilling blast, which drove the particles of snow like pins and needles into our faces much as spoondrift is driven from off the waves of the ocean.

To proceed on our journey was impossible. We dared not even light a fire near the tent, lest it might be destroyed by the flames driven against it by any sudden change of wind. All that day we sat helpless and disconsolate. Martin, who had held out bravely hitherto, began to give way.

“Oh! I must have some food,” he murmured, “or I shall die.”

He repeated this several times.

Alick at length, seizing his gun, started up. I thought he was going out in spite of the bitter weather to search for game, but I saw him put his hand on Bouncer’s head and lead him forth.

He had got a short distance from the tent when we overtook him.

“It must be done,” he said; “Bouncer must die. I cannot sit by and see that poor boy perish. What should we say to his father and mother, should we again meet them, or to Rose?”

I felt as he did, but, unwilling to see our noble and faithful dog put to death, I turned aside, expecting to hear the report of the gun, when Pat stepped up. “Shure, Misther Alick, you would not be afther killing the poor baste!” he exclaimed. “Let us trust to Providence as heretofore. We have not been deserted through all our throubles and dangers. See now! what’s that there?” he suddenly exclaimed. “After it, Bouncer!” and he and the dog started off over the snow.

I turned on hearing his voice, and saw a small animal followed by a larger, which I knew to be a fox. The cunning animal, catching sight of us just before I fired, gave a sudden turn, and though my bullet knocked off the top of his brush, he was far away, hidden by some low bushes, before even Alick had seen him.

A “Hurrah!” from Pat at the same instant reached my ears, and he came running back with Bouncer, who had caught the smaller animal.

The faithful dog at once surrendered his prize. It was a ground-squirrel which the fox had chased out of its winter nest. We should have been compelled to eat it raw had we not discovered a small open spot among the trees where we could light a fire.

Skinning the squirrel, we cut it up and put it into the pot to boil, while Bouncer had the head and skin for his share. He looked very grateful at being first served, but licked his chaps, as if he would have been obliged to us for a larger meal.

That squirrel, I believe, saved Martin’s life, and perhaps the lives of all of us. We were sufficiently recovered the next morning, and the storm having abated we again set out; for all of us suffered more from hunger than we had ever before done during our adventures.

Chapter Twelve.

“Tripe de roche”—Desolation—Pat’s endurance—Leather soup—“It’s a cariole; there’s another and another”—“Alick McClellan! David! Can it be you?”—A good square meal—Sandy’s escape—Honest Bouncer’s “rightful position”—The cariole—Night encampment in the snow—Buffalo-hunting—Wolves! Wolves!—Rose and Letty in danger—I defend them—The fort reached at last—Our start for the log cabin—Captain Grey recovers—I accompany Robin to Fort Garry—Ellen and Oliver—Conclusion of my history—Description of the present state of the Red River Settlement (now called Manitoba) and of the “Fertile Belt” beyond it reaching to the foot of the Rocky Mountains.

A moderate walk on snow-shoes on a fine winter’s day, with agreeable companions, when the sky is blue, the air still, and the snow frozen hard, is a very pleasant thing; and so is a hunting expedition, with attendants carrying refreshments, and the certainty, even though game may not be shot, of a good meal after it at a cheerful camp-fire, with abundance of buffalo-robes for covering; but to go on, tramp, tramp, tramp, day after day over the icy plains, often with a sharp wind blowing, and but a scanty fire and imperfect shelter at the termination of the journey, is a very different matter.

We found it to be so. Often the ground was uneven; sometimes we had hills to ascend, and precipitous elopes to slide down, not knowing what might be at the bottom; and then a wide plain to traverse, without a tree or a shrub to break its monotony or to assist us in directing our course. Soon after we set out in the morning our eyebrows became covered with frost, our caps froze to our brows, surrounded by a rim of icicles. The fronts of our coats were fringed with similar ornaments; even our eyelashes were covered with our congealed breath.

On several occasions we had to camp that we might go in search of game; but after many hours’ toil we returned—on one occasion with a fox, on another with a second ground-squirrel, and on two other days with a single hare.

The fox, though the least palatable, from being larger, lasted us longer than the other animals, and afforded poor Bouncer an ample meal.

We had reason to be thankful at obtaining these supplies, or we should otherwise have sunk down on the snow and perished; for even had we killed our poor dog, as he was nothing but skin and bones his body would not have long sustained us. For two whole days we feasted on tripe de roche, which, when boiled in our kettle, afforded us the only vegetable diet we had for a long time tasted. A high ridge had to be crossed, and it cost us much trouble to reach the summit. We had to take Bouncer out of the traces and drag up the sleigh ourselves.

A dreary prospect met our view from thence. Before us was a wide extent of country covered with its wintry clothing, its undulations reminding us of the ocean when the troubled waves begin to subside after a storm. Here and there a few leafless trees partially diversified the chilling scene, resembling the shattered masts of vessels which had suffered in the conflict of waters.

In vain did we strain our eyes to catch a glimpse of anything of human or animal shape. Neither did man, nor fowl, nor cattle, nor beast, nor creeping thing meet our gaze. Animated nature seemed to have abandoned the dreary solitude, and silent desolation reigned around. Yet this was the region we had to cross for many days before we could reach our destination. I could not avoid asking myself, should any of us be able to endure the fatigue we must first undergo, or should we even obtain food to support life?

Already we were greatly weakened, while Martin especially looked a phantom of his former self. Alick, though only so lately recovered from his severe illness, held out the best. Pat never made a complaint, though his wan cheek showed that famine was telling on him. If I sucked in my cheeks, it felt as if my teeth would come through them, and my knees would often scarcely bear me.

Hitherto, except the lichen we had scraped from the rocks, we had had no food that day, and we might be unable to obtain any before night.

“Come, lads; we must push on,” cried Alick. “It won’t do to be stopping here doubting whether we shall be able to get over yonder country. It has to be done, and the sooner we do it the better.”

Allowing the sledge to go first, we all slid down the steep slope in a half-sitting posture, happily reaching the bottom without accident. Honest Bouncer then came up to be again harnessed, and we set off at our usual pace—trudge, trudge, trudge. Hour after hour the click of the snow-shoes sounded in our ears.

“I wonder how long a man can go without eating?” asked Martin in a doleful tone.

“It is possible to hold out for three days,” answered Alick, “and perhaps longer, though it would not be pleasant. Don’t you think of giving in yet, Martin. We shall have some fresh meat to-morrow, I dare say, if we don’t get it to-night; and, at all events, we can have some leather soup before we turn in. We have a spare buffalo-robe or two to eat up before we cry die!”

That night all we had to sustain nature was the leather soup Alick spoke of, with the addition of some tripe de roche. Next morning we breakfasted on the same unsatisfactory materials.

We were still some days’ journey from the fort, and for the last three days not an animal had we seen.

Alick again began to turn, I thought, wolfish eyes at Bouncer. The poor dog walked on steadily dragging the sleigh, and looking up with an affectionate glance at our faces when any of us passed, happily unconscious of the fate threatening him.

Even Pat was at length beginning to despair. Alick cheered us on. “You must not give in, boys; you must not give in,” he exclaimed over and over again.

I felt that his advice, though good, was impracticable. The evening was approaching. I could scarcely drag one foot after another. We yet had some distance to go before we could reach a valley which lay below us, with a stream in summer flowing through it, and a grove of trees by its side.

Unable longer to support myself, I sank down on my knees, my gun dropping to the ground. My eyes were dimmed by my frozen eyelashes.

Alick and Pat were assisting me to rise, when Martin, who was a little ahead, exclaimed, “I see something coming along the valley: it’s a cariole. There’s another and another.”

I passed the cuff of my coat over my eyes. My companions held up their hands and shouted at the top of their voices, Bouncer at the same time lifting up his head and barking with all his might, as if conscious of the importance of being heard.

The carioles came on at full speed along the valley, their drivers running behind them. There were twenty or thirty of them, each drawn by eight or ten powerful dogs. I could now see them clearly.

Then came a number of baggage-sledges with more men on snow-shoes, all keeping up the same steady pace.

Our dread was that the travellers would pass without seeing us. Who they could be we could not tell, but they were evidently coming from the direction of the place to which we were bound. Again we shouted and waved our hands, and then Alick bethought him of firing off his gun. We all discharged ours, and presently we saw the leading sledge stop, the driver making a signal to the one behind him. It was passed along the line, and the whole train came to a halt.

“We are saved! we are saved!” we cried in chorus. The knowledge of this restored our strength.

I was helped up by my companions, and we all, straggling on, reached the bottom of the valley close to the leading sledge.

A gentleman got out of it and came towards us. We at once saw that he was Mr Meredith, though he at first evidently did not recognise any of us.

“What!” he exclaimed at length; “Alick McClellan!—David! can it be you?”

He pressed our hands.

“I little expected again to see you.—And Martin Crisp! can that be you? I know you now, though you look dreadfully pulled down. There are those behind to whom your appearance will give new life.”

“Then have my father and mother escaped?” exclaimed Martin, and he burst into tears.

“Yes,” answered Mr Meredith, “I am thankful to say that they have, and are now returning with us to Fort Ross, on their way to their former station.”

I cannot well describe the greetings we received from Rose and Letty, and indeed from all the party, with many of whom, besides Mr and Mrs Crisp, we were well acquainted.

Fortunately the train was not far from the spot selected for camping that night, and several of the gentlemen insisted upon getting out of their carioles and letting us take their places, while they put on our snow-shoes and ran by our sides. Poor Pat was of course treated in the same manner, and I took Bouncer in between my legs—the first time in his life he had ever enjoyed the honour of being dragged by his fellow-creatures.

The camp was soon reached. A party of men had gone on before to make preparations. Tents had been put up for the ladies, lean-to’s near the fires to shelter the gentlemen.

Abundance of food was soon placed before us—soft bread, hot tea and coffee. Far gone as we were, we were not so far gone that we could not enjoy it.

The adventures of our friends were recounted. Mr Meredith, though he had heard that the Blackfeet intended to take the fort, would have remained to defend it had he not been compelled to quit it for want of provisions. He was now returning with reinforcements of men and an ample supply of food; besides which he had a party of hunters with him, and he hoped to obtain an abundance of buffalo meat and venison. So secure did he feel that he was bringing back Rose and Letty and Mr and Mrs Crisp.

The two young ladies allowed Alick and me to sit near them; and I am compelled to confess, though I heard the sweet tones of their voices in my ear, it was not long after supper when I found my head nodding, and that the power to rouse myself had gone. I sunk back fast asleep, and remember nothing more till, opening my eyes, instead of the fair countenances of my young friends, I saw the well-bronzed visage of Sandy McTavish bending over me.

“Vera glad to see you, faster David, though I am loath to rouse you from your sleep; but the sleighs are harnessing, and the train will presently be on the move.” Sandy, taking my hand as he spoke, helped me to rise. I felt extremely stiff, and my joints ached considerably.

While I was drinking a tin of hot coffee which he had brought me, he told me how he and one of his companions, after the canoe had been upset, had clung on under her with their heads just above water, as she floated down the river, till at length, by great exertions, they had managed to direct her with their feet towards the shore. Believing that Pat was lost, they did not look for him, but, as soon as they had recovered, pushed on for Fort Ross, which they reached almost dead with hunger, and were, of course, the first to announce the tidings of the destruction of Fort Black.

Sandy had already found Pat, who had given him an account of our adventures.

I told him how delighted I was, too, to find that he had escaped, as I had given him up for lost. He told me, almost with tears in his eyes, how he had mourned for us, cut off, as he fancied, in our prime.

“But God is vera merciful,” he said, “and He has preserved you, I hope, to be good and useful men.”

“He has indeed taught us to trust Him, for His arm alone could have saved us from the many dangers to which we were exposed,” I answered.

We had not much time, however, for conversation, and Sandy, who had undertaken to look after me, helped me into a sledge, which had been prepared, he said, for my use.

Honest Bouncer, who had slept at the door of the tent, got in after me, seeming to consider that the place at my feet was his rightful position. There was just time before starting to exchange greetings with the rest of the party, who were already in their carioles.

I found that during the night four fresh carioles had been formed, and by taking a dog from one team and one or more from others, a sufficient number of animals had been procured to drag us. Sandy, who drove my team, gave me an account of the various events which had occurred, and of the grief our supposed loss had caused our friends. “The young ladies,” he said, “he feared would never again have recovered their spirits, and it was only when some hope was expressed that we might have escaped that they at all brightened up.”

Letty afterwards told me, indeed, that she had never altogether abandoned hope. “I could not have borne it had I done so,” she added.

After the fatiguing way in which we had been accustomed to travel, it was delightful to be drawn along at a rapid rate over the hard snow, well wrapped up in buffalo-robes; with a piece of crape drawn over the face to shelter it from the icy blast when the wind blew strong, or to shield the eyes when the sun shone too brightly on the glittering sheet of white.

The cariole, such as I was now seated in, is a somewhat simple vehicle. It is formed of a very thin board ten feet long and fourteen inches broad, turned up at one end in the form of a half-circle. To this board a high cradle, like the body of a small carriage, is attached, about eighteen inches from the end of the floor-board. The framework is covered with buffalo-skin parchment, and painted according to the taste of the builder. The inside is lined with a blanket or buffalo-robe; and when the traveller is seated in it, with his legs stretched out at his ease, he is only separated from the snow by the before-mentioned floor-board. Eight, twelve, or even more dogs form the team of a cariole, dragging it by long traces attached to collars which are ornamented with bead-work and tassels, and a string of small bells, which emit a pleasant tinkling sound.

The driver runs behind the cariole, guiding it by means of a line fastened to the floor which projects behind the seat.

When he gets tired of running, he stands on this projecting board; or should there be any luggage, he sits on the top of it.

When a new road is to be made—as was the case at the present—two or three men on snow-shoes go ahead and beat down the snow, making the road just wide enough for the passage of a cariole. The dogs seldom attempt to go off the track thus formed, though the first four or five teams have the hardest work; after which the road becomes hard, and the rest easily follow. It was curious to look forward and back at the long thin line, like some vast serpent moving over the snowy plain, following all the windings of the pioneers ahead; and it was cheering to hear the tinkling sound of the bells, and the voices of the drivers as they urged on the dogs.

When we encamped for the night, a small tent for the ladies, and another for two or three of the superior officers who required the luxury, were pitched; fires were lighted as close to them as safety would allow, or sometimes one long fire at which the cooks at once commenced operations.

Supper over, a short time was spent in conversation, and then all the party except those on guard betook themselves to repose. The greater number, who slept in the open air, rolled themselves up in their buffalo-robes in two lines, one on each side of the fire, with their feet towards it. Most of the dogs in the meantime had scraped out for themselves hollows in the snow, while others found out snug berths so close to the fire that they ran no little danger of burning their fur.

Such was the scene which met my eyes just before I fell asleep, rolled up like the rest in buffalo-robes with a knapsack for my pillow, the snow my couch, and the sky glittering brightly with countless stars overhead; and such was the scene which our camp presented night after night. We had got within three days’ journey of our destination, when numerous buffaloes were seen in the far distance; and as it was important to secure some fresh meat, Mr Meredith ordered a halt, that the hunters might go in chase of the animals. It was supposed that the buffaloes were moving away to the westward, and that another opportunity of hunting them might not occur during the winter.

A convenient place for a camp, in a hollow surrounded by trees, was chosen, and wigwams were put up for those who wished to remain in camp. The larger number of the men, however, all of whom were accustomed to hunting, were eager to go in chase, so that comparatively few remained to guard the camp.

I resolved to stay behind, both for the sake of enjoying the society of Rose and Letty, as also because I had had hunting enough, and had scarcely yet sufficiently recovered to undergo the fatigue of a long run in snow-shoes. Alick, though he had held out so well when leading our small party, had knocked up altogether when his responsibilities were over, and was unfit to exert himself in any way; all he could do, indeed, was to step into his cariole and be dragged along over the snow.

Martin was very little better, and this was the first opportunity he had had of spending any time with his parents, who were anxious to hear his adventures. I had been seated with Rose and Letty before the camp-fire, when they proposed putting on their snow-shoes and walking to the top of a slight elevation some distance off, from whence we fancied that a view might be obtained of the herd of buffaloes.

The air was perfectly calm, the sky bright, and as a hard crust had formed over the snow, we found walking especially pleasant. We went on and on, consequently, farther than we had intended, expecting every instant to come in sight of the hunters and the shaggy monsters of which they were in chase.

The ridge on the top of which we were walking was of no great height, and others somewhat more elevated intervened, we found, between us and the plain on which the buffaloes had been seen.

Rose—who had been leading, while Letty and I walked alongside each other—at last proposed going back. We—that is, Letty and I—had forgotten to watch the sun, which was already sinking rapidly towards the horizon. Just as we turned I caught sight of a number of dark objects, moving quickly over the snow. For a moment I thought they might be the huntsmen, but I was soon convinced that they were wolves. I did not at first apprehend that they were coming towards us, but still I knew that it would be well to make our way back to camp as fast as possible. I begged Rose and Letty to go forward while I kept watch on the proceedings of the wolves.

We had not gone far when to my dismay I felt convinced that they were making towards us, and I could even hear the faint sounds of their yelping and barking coming up from the plain below us.

I urged my companions to hasten on while I followed close behind them. I was in hopes that they were merely coyotes, which are cowardly creatures; but as they got nearer I saw that they were the larger species of prairie wolf, too probably rendered savage by hunger. I now bitterly regretted having allowed my young friends to go so far from the camp. We were still at too great a distance to make any signal for assistance.

I knew that by running we should only encourage the wolves to pursue us, and therefore entreating the young ladies to stop, I placed myself between them and the yelping pack of brutes, who were now within twenty yards of us.

The brave girls not only did not continue running, but came up close behind me—Rose placing herself directly in front of Letty, and holding her hands to her neck, knowing that they were too likely to spring at it. I felt that I must make every effort to drive the brutes away.

Shouting at the top of my voice in order to scare them, I fired at the leader of the pack, and knocked it over; but before I could reload, the savage animals were close upon me.

Taking my gun by the barrel, I used it as a club and struck with it right and left. My first blow beat down a wolf close to my feet, when its hungry companions immediately set upon it, and with fearful yelps and snarls began tearing it to pieces; but others still came on, gaunt, starving animals, barking savagely. Another wolf was on the point of springing at my throat, when I happily struck that down also; but several were at the same time making at Rose and Letty. My courage rose to desperation. I must save them even though I were myself to perish; but how could I hope to drive off the savage pack that came scampering on, eager to tear us to pieces?

There must have been fifty or more of them. Again and again as I struck around me I shouted with all my might. A reply came from behind me. It was that of human voices.

I heard a shot, and another wolf rolled over. I dared not for a second look round to ascertain who was coming to our relief. Presently I heard Bouncer’s deep bark and the voices of several more people. Other shots followed, and as the wolves fell their companions as before set upon them, leaving only a few brutes for me to deal with; till Bouncer, seizing by the throat one of the most daring, who was in the act of leaping at Rose, pulled it down as a hound does a deer. Sandy, Pat, and several of the hunting party now came up, and clubbing their guns, quickly laid low many more of the wolves, the remainder, panic-stricken, turning tail and galloping off at full speed. Reloading, we fired at the retreating pack, a number more of which fell over killed or went yelping away. Thankful for our merciful deliverance, we returned to the camp accompanied by our friends. They had followed a buffalo, which they had killed just below the ridge along which we had been walking when the wolves attacked us.

Messengers arrived from the remainder of the hunting party, and sledges were forthwith dispatched to bring in the meat of the animals they had killed. Another day was spent here, and the second hunting expedition which was sent out returned almost as successful as the first.

We then again moved forward and reached Fort Ross, without any further adventure worth recording. The ladies performed the journey without having suffered any unusual fatigue.

The fort was uninjured, and had evidently not been visited except by bears, who had managed to break into one of the storerooms, but had got nothing for their pains.

We had not forgotten Captain Grey and our young friend Robin. Mr Crisp, who had a good knowledge of medicine and surgery, at once volunteered to go to his assistance; and Alick and I having organised a party with four dog-sleighs, we set off, accompanied by the excellent missionary.

We of course felt very anxious, remembering the precarious state in which we had left Captain Grey. The first person we saw as we drew near the hut was Robin, who had heard the sound of our sleigh-bells, and came rushing out to meet us.

“How is your father?” was the first question we asked.

“He is still very low,” answered Robin sadly; “but if he had a doctor who knew how to treat him, I think that he would soon get better.”

“The doctor is here,” I answered, pointing to Mr Crisp.

Robin grasped his hand, exclaiming, “Oh, do come and cure my father!”

“God only can cure the ailments of the body, as He does those of the soul, my boy. I may prove, I trust, a humble instrument in His hands; but I will exert all the skill I possess, and pray to Him for a blessing on it.”

We remained several days at the hut; and the good missionary ministered not only, as he had promised, to the physical ailments of the sufferer, but to his spiritual necessities likewise, pointing out to him the great truth that though the all-pure God hates the sin He loves the sinner, and would have all men, though by nature His enemies, reconciled to Him, according to His own appointed way, through simple faith in the all-perfect, all-sufficient atonement for sin which His dear Son Jesus Christ offered up on Calvary.