CHAPTER EIGHT.
DEEP IN THE WILDERNESS WE FIND OUR HOME WHICH IS SHARED WITH THE WILDBEAST, THE WILD BIRD, AND THE SAVAGE.
Availing myself now of that wonderful power which we possess ofprojecting the mind instantaneously through space and time, I will leaveour adventurous fur-traders, and, conveying my reader still deeper intothe heart of the great wilderness, set him down on the margin of one ofthose lesser sheets of water which lie some distance in a south-westerlydirection from that mighty fresh-water ocean called Athabasca.
This lake, although small when compared with the vast reservoirs whichstud those northern wilds, is, nevertheless, of goodly dimensions, beingabout six miles in diameter, and studded here and there with numerousislets, some of which are almost bare rocks of a few yards in extent,while others are not less than a quarter of a mile in circumference, andthickly wooded to the edge.
It is a somewhat peculiar lake. It does not lie, as many lakes do, inthe bottom of a valley, from which the spectator lifts his eye tosurrounding heights, but rests in a little hollow on a height of land,from many points of which the eye looks down on the surrounding lowcountry. It is true, that in one direction, westward, a line of distantblue hills is seen, which are obviously higher than our lake, for theland rises gently towards them; but when you ascend a wooded knoll closeby, the summit of which is free from underwood, it is seen at a glancethat on all other sides the land is below you, and your eye takes in atone grand sweep all round the compass a view of woodland and plain,mound and morass, lake, river, and rivulet, such as is probablyunequalled--certainly unsurpassed--in any other part of the known world.
Solitude profound--as far as men and their works are concerned--markedthis lovely region at the time of our arrival, though there was the mosttelling evidence of exuberant animal life everywhere, to the ear as wellas to the eye; for the air was vocal with the plaintive cries andwhistling wings of wild-fowl which sported about in blissful enjoymentof their existence, while occasional breaks in the glassy surface of thewater, and numerous widening circles, told that fish were not lessjovial in the realms below. This was at last the longed-for LakeWichikagan.
Man, however, was not altogether absent, though less obviously present,at that time. At the extreme western end of the lake, where the view ofthe regions beyond was most extensive as well as most beautiful, therewas a bright green patch of land, free from underwood as well as trees--a sort of natural lawn--which extended with a gentle slope towards thelake; ending in a pebbly beach on which the waters rested so calm andpure that it was difficult to distinguish the line where dry land andwater met.
A little to the right of this beautiful spot there grew a small clump ofbushes, and in the midst of these there crouched two Indians. One wasmiddle-aged, the other was entering on the period of early manhood, anda strongly marked resemblance in feature and form indicated plainly thatthey stood to each other in the relation of father and son. Both wereclothed in leather, with the usual ornamentation of beads, scalp-locks,and feathers. Their faces, however, were not disfigured withwar-paint--a sign that at that time they were at peace with all mankind.
It might have struck an observer, however, that for men of peace theywere in suspiciously warlike attitudes. The elder savage stooped low toconceal himself behind the foliage, and held a long single-barrelled gunin readiness for instant action, while the youth, also stooping low,held an arrow ready fitted to his short bow. The eyes of both glaredwith expressions that might have been indicative of joy, hope, hate,revenge, expectation, or anything else you please--for a glare isunquestionably an ambiguous expression at the best, needing a context toexpound it.
"Let two die," muttered the elder redskin--of course in his own tongue.(I had the details from his own lips afterwards, and translate them asliterally as may be.)
"Ho!" replied the son, without moving his glare from the direction fromwhich the two doomed ones were expected to emerge.
Presently a flock of grey wild-geese came majestically along, close tothe margin of the lake--flying low, as well as slow, and following thecurvings of the shore as if in search of a suitable feeding-place atwhich to alight. The green of the natural lawn had evidently attractedthese birds, for they skimmed over the bushes behind which our Indianscrouched almost within pistol-shot.
Like statues the red-men stood until the geese were over them; then anarrow from the son's bow quivered in the heart of one bird, and broughtit fluttering heavily to the ground. At the same instant the echoesaround answered to the father's gun, and another goose lay dead upon thesward.
"Waugh!" exclaimed both Indians as they stepped forth and picked uptheir game.
These sons of the wilderness were not, however, very communicative, forthey spake never a word more. Perhaps they were hungry, and it iswell-known that hungry men are not sociable. At all events theymaintained a profound silence while they cut down a small decayed tree,made a good fire, and prepared dinner, or--as the sun was beginning todecline at the time--I may call it supper.
The mode of preparation was simple. Of course they plucked the geese;an operation which revealed the fact that both birds were plump and fat.Next they split them open with their scalping-knives, and, going downto the lake, cleaned them out with the same weapons. Then, transfixingthem on two pieces of stick, after the manner of red-men, they stuckthem up before the fire to roast. The roasting did not take long, forthey were either partial to underdone food or impatient, and began atonce upon such portions of the birds as were first ready, by cuttingthem off and chewing away without removing the remainder of the roastsfrom the fire. By degrees the solid parts were devoured. Then thedrumsticks and other extremities were picked; after that themerry-thoughts and smaller bones were cleaned, and not until everyfragment of edible matter was consumed did father or son cease his toilor utter a word.
"Waugh!" exclaimed the father at last, regarding the skeleton of hismeal with a sad look, as if grieved that all was over.
"Hough!" responded the son with a sigh of satisfaction, as he wiped hisfingers on the grass and sheathed his scalping-knife. Then, searchingin their little pouches, which contained flint steel, tinder, etcetera,they drew forth two little stone pipes with wooden stems, which theyfilled and began to smoke.
The first whiff seemed to break the magic spell which had hitherto keptthem silent. With another emphatic "Waugh!" the elder savage declaredthat the goose was good; that it distended him pleasantly, and that itwarmed the cockles of his heart--or words to that effect. To which theson replied with a not less emphatic "Hough!" that he was entirely ofthe same opinion. Thus, whiffing gently, letting the smoke slowly outof their mouths and trickling it through their nostrils, so as to getthe full benefit--or or damage!--of the tobacco, those sons of thewilderness continued for some time to enjoy themselves, while the sunsank slowly towards the western horizon, converting every lake and pond,and every river and streamlet, into a sheet, or band, or thread ofburnished gold. At last the elder savage removed his pipe and sent afinal shot of smoke towards the sky with some vigour as he said, ratherabruptly,--"Mozwa, my brother must be dead!"
"I hope not, father," returned the youth, whose name, Mozwa, signifiesin the Cree language "moose-deer," and had been given to the lad becausehe possessed an unusual power of running great distances, and for longperiods, at a sort of swinging trot that left all competitors of histribe far behind.
"I also hope not," said his father, whose name was Maqua, or "bear,""but I am forced to think so, for when Big Otter promises he is sure toperform. He said to Waboose that he would be home before the berrieswere ripe. The berries are ripe and he is not home. Without doubt heis now chasing the deer in the happy hunting-grounds with his fathers."
Waboose, to whom this promise had been made, was a favourite niece ofBig Otter, and had been named Waboose, or "rabbit," because she waspretty innocent, soft, and tender.
"My father," said Mozwa, rather solemnly, "Big Otter has not broken hisword, for _all_ the berrie
s are not yet ripe."
He plucked a berry which chanced to be growing near his hand, as hespoke, and held it up to view.
"Waugh!" exclaimed the elder savage.
"Hough!" returned the younger.
What more might have been said at that time no one can tell, for theconversation was cut short by a sound which caused both Indians tolisten with intense earnestness. Their eyes glittered like the eyes ofserpents, and their nostrils dilated like those of the wild-horse, whileeach man gently moved his right hand towards his weapon.
And if the too inquisitive reader should ask me how I could possiblycome to know all this, seeing that I was not there at the time, I replythat the whole matter was related to me with minute and dramatic powerby young Mozwa himself not long afterwards.
There was indeed ground for the excitement and earnest attention ofthose red-men, for the sweet and distant notes of a Canadian canoe-songhad at that moment, for the first time, awakened the echoes of that partof the Great Nor'-west.
The two men were not indeed ignorant of the fact that such songs weresung by Canadian voyageurs--Maqua had even heard some of them hummedonce by the men of Muskrat House, when, a good while before, he had paida visit to that remote trading-post--but never before had father or sonlistened to the songs sung in full chorus as they now heard them.
Spell-bound they waited until the sound of oars mingled with thegradually strengthening song. Then their fingers closed convulsivelyupon their weapons and they sprang up.
"What does my son think?"
"He thinks that the white man may be on the war-path, and it behoves thered-man like the serpent to creep into the grass and lie still."
The elder savage shook his head.
"No, Mozwa. The white man never goes on the war-path, except to trackdown murderers. When he goes through the land he travels as thered-man's friend. Nevertheless, it is well to be on our guard."
As he spoke, the song, which had been increasing in strength everymoment, suddenly burst forth with great power in consequence of the boatwhich bore the singers rounding a rocky point and coming into full view.
To sink into the grass, imitate the serpent and vanish from the scene,was the work of a few seconds on the part of Maqua and his son.
Meanwhile the boat, which I need scarcely say was ours, came sweepinggrandly on, for the fineness of the evening, the calmness of the lake,the splendour of the scene, and the prospect of a good supper, to befollowed by a good night's rest lent fresh vigour to the arms as well asto the voices of our men.
"Hold on a bit, boys," cried Jack Lumley, standing up in the stern andlooking shoreward, "this seems a pretty good place to camp."
"There is a better place a few yards further on," said Big Otter, whopulled the stroke oar. "I know every foot of the country here. It is asoft--"
"What does Big Otter see?" asked Lumley, for the Indian had come to asudden stop, and was gazing earnestly ahead.
"He sees the smoke of a fire."
"Is it likely to be the fire of an enemy?"
"No--more like to be the camp of some of my people, but their wigwamsare two days beyond this lake. Perhaps hunters are out in thisdirection."
"We shall soon see--give way, lads!" said Lumley, sitting down.
In a few minutes the boat was on the beach. We sprang ashore, andhastened to the spot where a thin wreath of smoke indicated the remainsof a camp-fire.
Of course we carried our arms, not knowing whom we should meet with.
After examining the spot carefully, Big Otter stood up and was about tospeak to our chief, when a slight peculiar chirp was heard in thebushes. It is probable that we should have deemed it that of some smallbird and paid no attention to it if our Indian had not suddenly bent hishead on one side as if to listen. At the same time he replied to thechirp. Again the sound was heard, and Big Otter, turning round quickly,without uttering a word, entered the bushes and disappeared.
"Stand ready, lads!" said Lumley in a quiet voice, bringing forward themuzzle of his gun, "there's no saying what may come of this."
Scarcely had he spoken when a rustling was heard in the bushes. Nextmoment they were thrust aside and Big Otter reissued from them, followedby two Indians, whom he introduced to us as his brother and nephew. Atthe same time he gave us the gratifying information that his tribe hadmoved up from the region in which they usually dwelt for the purpose ofhunting and fishing in the neighbourhood of the lake, and that the campwas not more than six or seven miles distant, from the spot on which westood.
To this Lumley replied by expressing his gratification at the news, andshaking hands with the two Indians, who, however, received the shakewith some distrust and much surprise, until Big Otter explained thenature and meaning of the white man's salutation. He also explained themeaning of "What cheer." On hearing which Maqua, not to be outdone inpoliteness, extended his hand for another shake, and exclaimed"Watchee!" with profound gravity. Mozwa, with some hesitation, imitatedhis father's example.
While we were thus pleasantly engaged, a sonorous trumpet sound washeard behind the clump of small trees near us. A moment later and twomagnificent wild swans sailed over the tree-tops and above our heads.They made a tumultuously wild swoop to one side on discovering the nearproximity of their enemy man but were too late. Almost before any ofthe party had time to move a muscle, two sharp cracks were heard, andboth swans fell stone dead, with a heavy splash, at the margin of thelake.
It was our chief, Jack Lumley, who had brought them down with hisdouble-barrelled fowling-piece. I have omitted to mention that Lumleywas one of the noted crack-shots of the country at that time--noted notonly for the deadly precision, but also for the lightning-like rapidityof his aim.
The Indians, albeit themselves pretty fair marksmen, were deeplyimpressed with this evidence of skill, and it went far to strengthen theinfluence which our chief's manly proportions and genial countenance hadalready begun to exercise.
"That's a good beginning, Lumley," said I, "for it not only impressesour new friends favourably, but provides excellent fresh meat forsupper."
"Yonder comes better meat for supper," he replied, pointing towards aneighbouring height, where we could see the forms of two menapproaching, with the carcase of a deer between them.
It was Donald Bane and James Dougall who had been thus successful.These sons of the Scottish Highlands, being ardent sportsmen as well asgood marksmen, had been appointed to the post of hunters to our party,and were frequently sent ashore to procure fresh meat.
"The country is swarmin' wi' game, Muster Lumley," said Bane, as theycame up, and flung down the deer. "Not only teer an' rabbits, but tucksan' geese, an' all sorts o' pirds. Moreover, Tougall, she got into abog after wan o' the peasts, an' I thought I wass goin' to lose himaltogither. `Shames Tougall,' says I, `don't you go anither step till Icome to you, or you're a lost man,' but Shames went on--he was always anobstinate loon--"
"Dat is true," remarked Salamander.
"Hold yer noise!" said Bane. "Well, sur, Tougall went on, an' sureenough the very next step down he went up to the neck--"
"No, Tonald," interrupted Dougall, "it wass not up to the neck; it wassonly to the waist. The nixt after that it wass up to the neck, but_then_ I wass soomin'."
"Ye would hey bin soomin' yet, Shames, if I had not pulled ye oot," saidhis friend.
"Oo ay, Tonald Pane. That iss true, but--"
"Well, Dougall," interrupted Lumley at this point, "it will be better todry your garments than discuss the question just now. We will encamphere, so go to work, boys."
There was no need for more. During our long journey into these far-offwilds each man had fallen into his allotted place and work, and theforce of habit had made us so like machines that I think if we hadsuddenly become a party of somnambulists we would have gone through thesame actions each evening on landing.
Accordingly, Lumley and I gathered small branches and rekindled theIndians' fire, which had by that time almost gone out
. Marcelle Dumontbeing professionally a forger of axes, and Henri Coppet, being anartificer in wood, went off to cut down trees for firewood; and DonaldBane with his friend set about cutting up and preparing the venison,while Blondin superintended and assisted Salamander and the others inlanding the cargo, and hauling up the boat.
"Max," said Lumley to me that evening during an interval in our devotionto steaks and marrow-bones, "look around for a moment if you can tearyour gross mind from the contemplation of food, and tell me what yousee?"
He made a sweep with his arm to indicate the surrounding scenery, whichwas at the moment irradiated by the after-glow of the setting sun, aswell as the brightening beams of the full moon.
"I see," said I, looking up, "a lovely lake, dotted with islets ofvaried shape and size, with the pale moon reflected almost unbroken inits glassy waters."
"What else do you see?" asked Lumley.
"I see around and beyond a prospect of boundless woodland, of plain,mound, hill, lake, and river, extending with a grand sweep that suggestsideas which can only be defined by the word Immensity. I see altogethera scene the like of which I never looked upon before--a scene of beauty,peacefulness, and grandeur which gladdens the eye to behold and fillsthe heart with gratitude to its Maker."
"You say well, Max," returned my friend, "and it seems to me that we mayregard this Lake Wichikagan which we now look upon as our inheritance inthe wilderness, and that the spot on which we now sit shall be, for sometime at least, our future home."