CHAPTER NINETEEN.
OPENING OF THE MYSTERIOUS PACKET.
The manuscript was without date or preface, and its contents interestedas well as surprised us not a little. It began at once as follows:--
"Whoever receives this packet and letter from my daughter receives asacred trust which he dare not shake off, and which I solemnly chargehim in the sight of God to take up and fulfil. At the moment while Iwrite I am well and strong, and not old. It is my firm intention, ifGod spares me, to pursue the course which is herein detailed, but I knowtoo well the risk and dangers of the wilderness to feel assured that Ishall live to act out my part. I therefore write down here, as brieflyas I can, my story and my wishes, and shall give the letter with myminiature to my darling Waboose--whose Christian name is Eve, though sheknows it not--with directions not to open it, or let it out of herhands, until she meets with a white man _whom_ _she_ _can_ _trust_, forwell assured am I that the man whom my innocent and wise-hearted Eve can_trust_--be he old or young--will be a man who cannot and will notrefuse the responsibility laid on him. Why I prefer to leave thispacket with my daughter, instead of my dear wife, is a matter with whichstrangers have nothing to do.
"I begin by saying that I have been a great sinner, but thank God, Ihave found Jesus a great Saviour. Let this suffice. I was never givento open up my mind much, and I won't begin now--at least, not more thanI can help. It is right to say, at the outset, that I have beenregularly married by a travelling Wesleyan minister to my dear wife, bywhom also Eve and her mother were baptized.
"My fall began in disobedience to my mother. Probably this is the casewith most ne'er-do-wells. My name is William Liston. My father was afarmer in a wild part of Colorado. He died when I was a little boy,leaving my beloved mother to carry on the farm. I am their only child.My mother loved and served the Lord Christ. And well do I know that mysalvation from an ungovernable temper and persistent self-will is thedirect answer to her unceasing prayers.
"I left home, against her will, with a party of backwoodsmen, my heartbeing set on what I once thought would be the free and jolly life of ahunter in the great American wilderness. I have lived to find the truthof that proverb, `All is not gold that glitters,' and of that word,`There is no rest, saith my God, to the wicked.'
"I was eighteen when I left home. Since then I have been a homelesswanderer--unless a shifting tent may be considered home! Long after myquitting home, and while staying with a tribe of Indians at the headwaters of the Saskatchewan river, I met an Indian girl, whose gentle,loving nature, and pretty face, were so attractive to me that I marriedher and joined her tribe. The marriage ceremony was, as I have said,confirmed by a Wesleyan minister, whose faithful words made such animpression on me that I resolved to give up my wild life, and returnwith my wife and child to my old home. My character, however--which isextremely resolute and decided when following the bent of myinclinations, and exceedingly weak and vacillating when running counterto the same--interfered with my good intentions. The removal of thetribe to a more distant part of the land also tended to delay me, and astill more potent hindrance lay in the objection of my wife--who hasbeen faithful and true to me throughout; God bless her! She could notfor a long time, see her way to forsake her people.
"Ever since my meeting with the Wesleyan, my mind has been running moreor less on the subject of religion, and I have tried to explain it asfar as I could to my wife and child, but have found myself woefullyignorant as well as sinful. At last, not long ago, I procured a NewTestament from a trapper, and God in mercy opened my eyes to see and myheart to receive the truth as it is in Jesus. Since then I have hadless difficulty in speaking to my wife and child, and have beenattempting to teach the latter to read English. The former, whosemother and father died lately, has now no objection to go with me to theland of the pale-faces, and it is my present intention to go to my oldhome on the return of spring. I have not heard of my poor mother sinceI left her, though at various times I have written to her. It may bethat she is dead. I hope not--I even think not, for she was very youngwhen she married my father, and her constitution was strong. But herhair was beginning to silver even before I forsook her--with sorrow, Ifear, on my account. Oh! mother! mother! How unavailing is my bitterregret! What would I not give to kneel once more at your feet andconfess my sin! This may perhaps be permitted--but come weal, come woe,blessed be God we shall meet again.
"If my prayer is granted, this paper will never be seen by human eyes.If God sees fit to deny me this, and I should die in the wilderness,then I charge the man to whom my packet is given, to take my wife anddaughter to Colorado; and if my mother--Mrs William Liston, of SunnyCreek--be still alive, to present them to her with this written paperand miniature. If, on the other hand, she be dead, then let him buy forthem an annuity, or otherwise invest four thousand pounds for theirbenefit, according to the best of his judgment. How to come by the fourthousand pounds I will now explain.
"Away in the beautiful and sequestered valley at the head of LakeWichikagan there stands a stunted pine, near a rock fallen from thecliff above. The spot is not easily found, but my Eve knows it well.It was a favourite resort of ours when we went picnicking together.There is a small hole or dry cave in the cliff just behind the fallenrock. Two feet underneath the soil there will be found a bag containinga set of diamonds worth the sum I have named, with a smaller bagcontaining five hundred pounds in gold. It may not be amiss to say thatboth jewels and money have been honestly come by. The money I dug outof the Californian mines, and bought the jewels in a drunken frolic whenin Canada--`for my future wife,' as I then boasted. My dear wife hasnever seen them, nor has Eve. They do not know of their existence. Thefive hundred pounds in gold is to be retained for himself by the man whoaccepts this trust to enable him to pay his way and carry it out.
"William Liston."
It is difficult to express the conflict of feelings that assailed mewhen I had finished reading this remarkable manuscript. For some timeLumley and I gazed at each other in silence.
"You accept the trust, I suppose?" said my friend at last.
"Of course. How could I do otherwise?"
"But you cannot remain in the service of the Hudson's Bay Company if youdo. They would never give you leave of absence for such a purpose."
"No matter. I will not ask leave of absence. I will resign. My timewas up, you know, this year. I will write to the governor by thespring-brigade, and start away for Colorado in summer."
"But this poor man may have been slightly deranged," suggested Lumley."He says that at one time he led a wild life. It is possible that hisbrain may have been affected, and he only dreams of these jewels and thegold."
"I think not," said I, decidedly; "the letter is so calm and simple instyle that the idea is absurd; besides, we can soon test it by visitingthe valley and the spot referred to. Moreover, even if there were nomoney, and the poor man were really deranged, he could never haveimagined or invented all that about his mother and Colorado if it werenot true. Even if we fail to find the jewels and cash I will accept thetrust and fulfil it."
"What! without money?"
"Ay, without money," said I firmly, though I am bound to confess that Idid not at the moment see clearly how the thing was in that case to bedone. But I was--and, indeed, still am--of an ardent disposition, andfelt sanguine that I should manage to fulfil the obligations of thisremarkable trust somehow.
"Well, Max, you and I will visit this valley to-morrow," said Lumley,rising; "meanwhile we will go to bed."
Accordingly, next morning, after breakfast Lumley and I slung oursnow-shoes over our shoulders on the barrels of our guns,--for the lakewas as hard as a sheet of white marble,--and started off to pay a visitto the spot indicated, in what I may style poor Liston's will.
It was a bright bracing day--quite calm, but with keen frost, whichtended to increase the feelings of excitement already roused by theobject we had in view. As we passed through the lake's
fringe ofwillows, the tops of which just rose a foot or two above the driftedsnow, a great covey of ptarmigan rose with a mighty whirr, and sweptalong the shore; but we took no heed of these--our minds being bent onother game!
The distance to the upper end of the lake was considerable, and the daywas far advanced when we reached it. As we took to the land the coveyof ptarmigan, which had preceded us to the place, again rose. Thistime, however, we were prepared for them. Lumley shot a brace right andleft, taking the two last that rose with sportsman-like precision. Iconfess that I am not a particularly good shot--never was--and have notmuch of the sportsman's pride about me. I fired straight into thecentre of the dense mass of birds, six of which immediately fell uponthe snow.
"What a lot of flukes!" exclaimed my companion, with a laugh, as herecharged.
"Luck before precision, any day!" said I, following his example.
"Ay, Max, but there is this difference, that luck is rather uncertain,whereas precision is always sure."
"Well, be that as it may," said I putting on my snow-shoes, for the snowin the wood we were about to enter was deep and soft, "we have enoughfor a good supper at all events."
"True, and we shall need a good supper, for we must camp out. There isno chance of our finding this treasure--even if it exists--until we havehad a good search, and then it will be too late to return home withcomfort, or even safety, for it is difficult on a dark night todistinguish tracks on the hard snow of a lake, as I've sometimes foundto my cost."
We set up several other coveys of ptarmigan as we traversed the belt ofwillows lying between the lake and the woods, and when we entered thelatter, several grouse, of a species that takes to trees, fluttered awayfrom us; but we did not molest them, having already more than we couldconsume swinging at our belts.
We went straight up the valley to what we deemed the most sequesteredpart of it, and then paused.
"This looks somewhat like the spot, doesn't it?" said Lumley, glancinground. "Yonder is a cliff with rocks at the base of it."
"Yes, but too many rocks," said I; "the paper mentions only one;besides, it refers to a stunted pine, and I see nothing of that sorthere."
"True, it must be higher up the valley. Come along."
On we plodded, hour after hour, halting often, and examining with caremany a secluded spot that seemed to answer, more or less, thedescription of the spot for which we searched, but all in vain. Sunsetfound us as far from our object as ever, and as hungry as hawks.Darkness of course put an end to the search, and, with a feeling ofdisappointment and weariness that I had not experienced since arrivingin that region, I set to work to fell and cut up a tree for fire wood,while Lumley shovelled a hole in the snow at the foot of a pine, andotherwise prepared our encampment.
But youth is remarkably elastic in spirit! No sooner was the firecrackling, the kettle singing, and the delicious odour of roastedptarmigan tickling our nostrils, than disappointment gave way to hopeand weariness to jollity.
"Come, we shall have at it again to-morrow," said Lumley.
"So we shall," said I--"mind that kettle. You have an unfortunatecapacity for kicking things over."
"One of the disadvantages of long legs, Max. They're always in the way.Get out the biscuit now. My ptarmigan is ready. At least, if itisn't, I can't wait."
"Neither can I, Jack. I sometimes wish that it were natural to us toeat things raw. It would be so very convenient and save sh---a--lot--of--time."
Hunger and a wrenched-off drumstick checked further utterance!
That night we lay in our snow camp, gazing up at the stars, with ourfeet to the fire, talking of gold and diamonds with all the eagerness ofveritable misers--though it is but justice to myself to add that Eve'sblue eyes outshone, in my imagination, all the diamonds that ever deckedthe brow of Wealth or Beauty! When at last we slept, our dreams partookof the same glittering ideas--coupled, of course, with much of themonstrous absurdity to which dreams are liable. I had just discovered agem which was so large that I experienced the utmost difficulty inthrusting it into my coat-pocket, and was busy shovelling small diamondsof the purest water into a wheelbarrow, when a tremendous whack on mynose awoke me.
Starting up with an indignant gasp I found that it was a lump of snow,which had been detached by the heat of our fire from a branch overhead.
"What's wrong, Max?" growled my companion, who lay curled up in hisbuffalo robe, like a huge Newfoundland dog. "Bin dreamin'?"
"Yes," said I, with a loud yawn, "I was dreaming of shovelling updiamonds by the thousand when a lump of snow fell and hit my nose!"
"Str'nge," sighed Lumley, in the sleepiest voice I ever heard, "so's I--dr'm'n 'f g'ld'n sass-gs an' dm'nd rupple-ply."
"What nonsense are you talking, man? What were you dreaming of?"
"'F gold'n saus'ges an' dim'nd rolly-p'ly. I say--'s fire out?"
"Nearly."
"'S very cold. G't up--mend it, l'ke good f'llow. I'll help you,d'rectly."
He finished off with a prolonged snore, so I rose with a slight laugh,mended the fire, warmed myself well, observed in a sleepy way that thenight was still bright and calm, and then lay down in a state ofsemi-consciousness to drop at once into a nest made of golden filigreefilled with diamond eggs!
Next morning we rose at daybreak, relighted the fire and had breakfast,after which we resumed our search, but still--without success.
"I fear that my surmise as to the state of poor Liston's mind iscorrect," said Lumley. "We have searched the whole valley, I believe."
"Nay, not quite," I returned, "it is much varied in form, and full ofout-o'-the-way nooks. Besides, we have not yet discovered the stuntedpine, and you know the paper says the spot is difficult to find. As toListon's mind I feel quite sure that it was all right, and that the manwas a good and true one. The father of Waboose could not have beenotherwise."
I said this somewhat decidedly, for I felt sorely disappointed at ourfailure, and slightly annoyed at my friend's unbelief in one whose lastwriting proved him--at least to my mind--to be genuine and sincere.
"Well, Max," returned Lumley, with his wonted pleasant look and tone,"it may be that you are right. We will continue our search as long asthere seems any chance of success."
Accordingly, we ranged the valley round, high and low, until we hadvisited, as we thought, every nook and cranny in it and then, muchdispirited, returned home.
One morning, about three months after these events, Lumley came into mybedroom where I was drawing a plan for a new store.
"Max," said he, sitting down on the bed beside me, "I mean to start thisafternoon on a visit to the mountain fort. You know I promised Macnabthat I would look him up about this time and fetch Waboose and hermother back."
"Indeed. When do you start!"
"This afternoon."
I was not surprised at the suddenness of this announcement. Our chiefwas eminently a man of action. He seldom talked much about plans, butthought them well out, and when his mind was made up acted withoutdelay.
"You'll take my letter to the governor and tell Mac to forward it withhis spring packet?" said I.
"Yes, that is just what I came to see you about. Is it ready--and areyou quite decided about retiring?"
"Quite decided. See, here is the letter. And don't forget your promiseto say nothing to Waboose or anyone else about Liston's packet."
"Not a word, my boy."
That afternoon my friend set off on snow-shoes accompanied by two men.
"Any message, Max?" he said, at parting.
"Of course. My kind regards to everybody."
"Nothing warmer to _anybody_?"
"Oh, yes," I returned quickly, "I forgot you may, if you choose, saysomething a little more affectionate to Miss Macnab!"
"I will, Max, I will," he replied, with a loud ringing laugh and acheery good-bye.
Some time after that an Indian came to the fort bearing a letter fromLumley. It was written, he said, merely because the Ind
ian chanced tobe travelling towards Wichikagan, and contained nothing of importance.To my surprise and disappointment it contained no reference whatever toWaboose. On turning over the last page, however, I found a postscript.It ran thus:
"P.S.--By the way, I had almost omitted to mention Eve. My dear boy, Ibelieve you are right. She is one of Nature's ladies. Jessie hasprevailed on her to put on one of her dresses and be her companion, andwhen they are walking together with their backs towards me, upon my wordI have difficulty in deciding which is the more ladylike of the two!And that you will admit, is no small compliment from me. Jessie hasbeen giving her lessons in English, and music and drawing too. Justthink of that! She says she is doing it with an end in view. I wonderwhat that end can be! Jessie is sometimes difficult to understand. Sheis also remarkably wise and far-sighted. I expect to be home soon--farewell."