Lost in the Wilds: A Canadian Story

  *CHAPTER VIII.*

  _*THE SHOP IN THE WILDERNESS.*_

  As soon as Gaspe had despatched his messenger he turned to Wilfred,observing, in tones of grateful satisfaction, "I am so glad we know intime."

  "Is that your grandfather?" asked Wilfred.

  Gaspe nodded. "Come and look at him."

  The two boys were soon watching earnestly through the grating, theirfaces almost touching. Gaspe's arm was over Wilfred's shoulder, as theydrew closer and closer to each other.

  Gaspe's grandfather took the slip of paper from his man, glanced at it,and crushed it in his hand. The chief was hastily heaping a mass ofbuffalo robes and skins and bags of pemmican upon one of the horses, agift for the white man, horse and all. This was to show his big heart.

  "Do you hear what he is saying?" whispered Gaspe, who understood theIndians much better than Wilfred did. "Listen!"

  "Are there any Crees here? Crees have no manners. Crees are like dogs,always ready to bite if you turn your head away; but the Blackfeet havelarge hearts, and love hospitality."

  "After all, those men in the reeds may only be on the watch for fear ofa surprise from the Crees," continued Gaspe.

  "Will there be a fight?" asked Wilfred breathlessly.

  "No, I think not," answered Gaspe. "The Crees have lived amongst uswhites so long they have given up the war-path. But," he addedconfidentially, "I have locked our old Indian in the kitchen, for ifthey caught sight of him they might say we were friends of the Crees,and set on us."

  One door in the white-painted house was standing open. It led into alarge and almost empty room. Just inside it a number of articles werepiled on the floor--a gun, blankets, scarlet cloth, and abrightly-painted canister of tea. Louison came back to fetch them, fora return present, with which the chief seemed highly delighted.

  "We see but little of you white men," he said; "and our young men do notalways know how to behave. But if you would come amongst us more, wechiefs would restrain them."

  "He would have hard work," laughed Wilfred, little thinking how soon hiswords were to be verified. The Blackfeet standing round their chief,with their piles of skins, were so obviously getting excited, andimpatient to begin the real trading, the chief must have felt even hecould not hold them back much longer. But he was earnest in hisexhortation to them not to give way to violence or rough behaviour.

  Gaspe's grandfather was silently noting every face, without appearing todo so; and mindful of the warning he had received, he led the way to hisgate, which he invited them to enter, observing, "My places are butsmall, friends. All shall come in by turns, but only a few at a time."

  Gaspe drew back the bar and threw the gate wide. In walked the statelychief, with one or two of his followers who had taken part in thespeech-making. The excited crowd at the back of them pushed their wayin, as if they feared the gate might be shut in their faces.

  Gaspe remonstrated, assuring them there was no hurry, all should havetheir turn.

  The chief waved them back, and the last of the group contentedthemselves with standing in the gateway itself, to prevent it being shutagainst them.

  Gaspe gave up the vain attempt to close it, and resumed his post.

  "I am here on the watch," he whispered to Wilfred; "but you are cold andhungry. Go with grandfather into the shop."

  "I would rather stay with you," answered Wilfred. "I am getting used tobeing hungry."

  Gaspe answered this by pushing into his hand a big hunch of bread andbutter, which he had brought with him from his hurried breakfast.

  Meanwhile Gaspe's grandfather had entered the house, taking with him theBlackfoot chief. He invited the others to enter and seat themselves onthe floor of the empty room into which Wilfred had already had a peep.He unlocked an inner door, opening into a passage, which divided thegreat waiting-room from the small shop beyond. This had been carefullyprepared for the reception of their wild customers. Only a few of hisgoods were left upon the shelves, which were arranged with muchingenuity, and seemed to display a great variety of wares, all of themattractive in Indian eyes. The bright-coloured cloths, cut in shortlengths, were folded in fantastic heaps; the blankets were hung ingraceful festoons. Beads scattered lightly on trays glittered behindthe counter, on which the empty scales were lightly swaying up and down,like miniature swinging-boats.

  A high lattice protected the front of the counter. Gaspe's grandfatherestablished himself behind it. Louison took his place as door-keeper.The chief and two of his particular friends were the first to beadmitted. Louison locked the door to keep out the others. It was theonly way to preserve order. The wild, fierce strangers from thesnow-covered plain and the darksome forest drew at once to the stove--agreat iron box in the middle of the shop, with its huge black funnelrising through the ceiling. Warmth without smoke was a luxury unknown inthe wigwam.

  The Indians walked slowly round the shop, examining and considering thecontents of the shelves, until their choice was made.

  One of the three walked up to the counter and handed his pile of skinsto the trader, Mr. De Brunier, through a little door in the lattice,pointing to some bright scarlet cloth and a couple of blankets. Thechief was examining the guns. All three wanted shot, and the othersinquired earnestly for the Indians' special delight, "tea and suga'."But when they saw the canister opened, and the tea poured into thescale, there was a grunt of dissatisfaction all round.

  "What for?" demanded the chief. "Why put tea one side that swing andlittle bit of iron the other? Who wants little bit of iron? We don'tknow what that medicine is."

  The Indians call everything medicine that seems to them learned andwise.

  Mr. De Brunier tried to explain the use of his scales, and took up hissteelyard to see if it would find more favour.

  "Be fair," pursued the chief; "make one side as big as the other. Trybag of pemmican against your blankets and tea, then when the thing stopsswinging you take pemmican, we blankets and tea--that fair!"

  His companions echoed their chief's sentiments.

  "As you like," smiled the trader. "We only want to make a fairexchange."

  So the heavy bag of pemmican was put in the place of the weight, and anice heap of tea was poured upon the blanket to make the balance true.The Indians were delighted.

  "Now," continued Mr. De Brunier, "we must weigh the shot and the gunagainst your skins, according to your plan."

  But when the red men saw their beautiful marten and otter and fisherskins piling higher and higher, and the heavy bag of shot still refusingto rise, a grave doubt as to the correctness of their own view of thematter arose in the Indians' minds. The first served took up hisscarlet cloth and blanket and went out quickly, whilst the othersdeliberated.

  The trader waited with good-humoured patience and a quiet gleam ofamusement in the corner of his eye, when they told him at last to do ithis own way, for the steel swing was a great medicine warriors could notunderstand. It was plain it could only be worked by some great medicineman like himself.

  This decision had been reached so slowly, the impatience of the crowd inthe waiting-room was at spirit-boil.

  The brave who had come back satisfied was exhibiting his blankets andhis scarlet cloth, which had to be felt and looked at by all in turn.

  "Were there many more inside?" they asked eagerly.

  He shook his head.

  A belief that the good things would all be gone before the rest of theIndians could get their turn spread among the excited crowd likewild-fire.

  Gaspe still held to his watch by the gate, with Wilfred beside him.

  There was plenty of laughing and talking among the party of resolute menwho kept it open; they seemed full of fun, and were joking each other inthe highest spirits. Gaspe's eyes turned again and again to the frozenreeds, but all was quiet.

  Wilfred was earnestly watching for a chance to ask the mirthfulBlackfeet if an old squaw, the Far-off-Dawn, had joined their camp
. Hecould not make them understand him, but Gaspe repeated the question.

  At that moment one of the fiercest-looking of the younger warriorsrushed out of the waiting-room in a state of intense excitement. Hebeckoned to his companions at the gate, exclaiming, "If we don't helpourselves there will be nothing left for you and me."

  "We know who will see fair play," retorted the young chief, who wasanswering Gaspe.

  A whoop rang through the frosty air, and the still stiff reeds seemedsuddenly alive with dusky faces. The crush round the inner door in thewaiting-room became intense.

  "Help me," whispered Gaspe, seizing Wilfred's arm and dragging him afterhim through the sheds to the back of the house. He took out a key andunlocked a side door. There was a second before him, with the keyholeat the reverse hand. It admitted them into a darkened room, for thewindows were closely shuttered; but Gaspe knew his ground, and was notat a moment's loss.

  The double doors were locked and bolted in double quick time behindthem. Then Gaspe lifted up a heavy iron bar and banged it into itssocket. Noise did not matter. The clamour in the waiting-room drownedevery other sound.

  "They will clear the shop," he said, "but we must stop them getting intothe storeroom. Come along."

  Wilfred was feeling the way. He stumbled over a chair; his hand felt atable. He guessed he was in the family sitting-room. Gaspe put hismouth to the keyhole of an inner door.

  "Chirag!" he shouted to their Indian servant, "barricade."

  The noises which succeeded showed that his command was being obeyed inthat direction.

  Gaspe was already in the storeroom, endeavouring to push a heavy box ofnails before the other door leading into the shop. Wilfred was besidehim in a moment. He had not much pushing power left in him after hisnight of wandering.

  "Perhaps I can push a pound," he thought, laying his hands by Gaspe's.

  "Now, steady! both together we shall do it," they said, and with onehard strain the box was driven along the floor.

  "That is something," cried Gaspe, heaving up a bag of ironmongery to puton the top of it. And he looked round for something else sufficientlyponderous to complete his barricade.

  "What is this?" asked Wilfred, tugging at a chest of tools.

  Meanwhile a dozen hatchets' heads were hammering at the door from thewaiting-room where Louison was stationed. The crack of the wood givingway beneath their blows inspired Gaspe with redoubled energy. The chestwas hoisted upon the box. He surveyed his barricade with satisfaction.But their work was not yet done. He dragged forward a set of steps, andrunning up to the top, threw open a trap-door in the ceiling. A ray oflight streamed down into the room, showing Wilfred, very white andexhausted, leaning against the pile they had erected.

  Gaspe sprang to the ground, rushed back into the sitting-room, and beganto rummage in the cupboard.

  "Here is grandfather's essence of peppermint and the sugar-basin andlots of biscuits!" he exclaimed. "You are faint, you have had nobreakfast yet. I am forgetting. Here."

  Wilfred's benumbed fingers felt in the sugar for a good-sized lump.Gaspe poured his peppermint drops upon it with a free hand. Thewarming, reviving dose brought back the colour to Wilfred's pale lips.

  "Feel better?" asked his energetic companion, running up the steps witha roll of cloth on his shoulder, which he deposited safely in the loftabove, inviting Wilfred to follow. The place was warm, for the ironchimneys ran through it, like so many black columns. Wilfred was readyto embrace the nearest.

  Gaspe caught his arm. "You are too much of a human icicle for that," hecried. "I'll bring up the blankets next. Roll yourself up in them andget warm gradually, or you will be worse than ever. You must take careof yourself, for I dare not stop. It is always a bit dangerous when theIndians come up in such numbers to a little station like this. There isnobody but grandfather and me and our two men about the place, and whatare four against a hundred? But all know what to do. Chirag watchesinside the house, I outside, and Louison keeps the shop door. That isthe most dangerous post, because of the crush to get in."

  A crash and a thud in the room below verified his words.

  "There! down it goes," he exclaimed, as a peal of laughter from manyvoices followed the rush of the crowd from one room to the other.

  "They will be in here next," he added, springing down the steps foranother load. Wilfred tried to shake off the strange sensations whichoppressed him, and took it from him. Another and another followedquickly, until the boys had removed the greater part of the mostvaluable of the stores into the roof. The guns and the heavy bags ofshot had all been carried up in the early morning, before the gate ofthe fort was opened.

  And now the hammering began at the storeroom door, amid peals ofuproarious laughter.

  Gaspe tore up the steps with another heavy roll of bright blue cloth.

  "We can do no more," he said, pausing for breath. "Now we will shutourselves in here."

  "We will have these up first," returned Wilfred, seizing hold of the topof the steps, and trying to drag them through the trap-door.

  "Right!" ejaculated Gaspe. "If we had left them standing in the middleof the storeroom, it would have been inviting the Blackfeet to followus."

  They let down the trap-door as noiselessly as they could, and drew theheavy bolt at the very moment the door below was broken open and thetriumphant crowd rushed wildly in, banging down their bags of pemmicanon the floor, and seizing the first thing which came to hand in return.

  Louison had been knocked down in the first rush from the waiting-room,and was leaning against the wall, having narrowly escaped being trampledto death. "All right!" he shouted to his master, who had jumped up onhis counter to see if his agile servitor had regained his feet. It waswild work, but Mr. De Brunier took it all in good part, flinging hisblankets right and left wherever he saw an eager hand outstretched toreceive them. He knew that it was far better to give before they hadtime to take, and so keep up a semblance of trade. Many a beautifulskin and buffalo-robe was tossed across the counter in return. Theheterogeneous pile was growing higher and higher beside him, and in theconfusion it was hard to tell how much was intended for purchase, howmuch for pillage.

  The chief, the Great Swan, as his people called him, still stood by thescales, determined to see if the great medicine worked fairly for allhis people.

  Mr. De Brunier called to him by his Indian name: "Oma-ka-pee-mulkee-yeu,do you not hear what I am saying? Your young men are too rough.Restrain them. You say you can. How am I to weigh and measure to eachhis right portion in such a rout?"

  "Give them all something and they will be content," shouted the chief,trying his best to restore order.

  Dozens of gaudy cotton handkerchiefs went flying over the black heads,scrambling with each other to get possession of them. Spoonfuls ofbeads were received with chuckles of delight by the nearest ranks; hutthe Indians outside the crowd were growing hot and angry. Turns hadbeen long since disregarded. It was catch as catch can. They broke downthe lattice, and helped themselves from the shelves behind the counter.These were soon cleared. A party of strong young fellows, laughing asif it were the best fun in the world, leaped clear over the counter, andbegan to chop at the storeroom door with their hatchets. With adexterous hand Mr. De Brunier flung his bright silks in their faces.The dancing skeins were quickly caught up. But the work of demolitionwent forward. The panels were reduced to matchwood. Three glitteringhatchets swung high over the men's heads, came down upon the stillresisting framework, and smashed it. The mirthful crowd dashed in.

  The shop was already cleared. Mr. De Brunier would have gone into hisstoreroom with them if he could, but a dozen guns were pointed in hisface. It was mere menace, no one attempted to fire. But the chiefthought it was going too far. He backed to the waiting-room. Mr. DeBrunier seized his empty tea-canister, and offered it to him as aparting gift, saying in most emphatic tones, "This is not our way ofdoing business. Some of these men have got too much, and some
toolittle. It is not my fault. I must deal now with the tribe. Let themall lay down on the floor the rest of the skins and bags they havebrought, and take away all I have to give in exchange, and you mustdivide when you get back to your camp, to every man his right share."

  Oma-ka-pee-mulkee-yeu rushed off with his canister under his arm; notinto the storeroom, where the dismayed trader hoped his presence mighthave proved a restraint, but straight through the waiting-room with amad dash into the court, and through the gate, where he halted to give athunderous shout of "Crees! Crees!" The magic words brought out hisfollowers pell-mell. A second shout, a wilder alarm, made the triberally round their chief, in the full belief the Crees had surprisedtheir camp in their hateful dog-like fashion, taking their bite at thewomen and children when the warriors' heads were turned.

  But the unmannerly foe was nowhere in sight.

  "Over the hill!" shouted their Great Wild Swan, the man of twentyfights.

  Meanwhile the gate of the little fort was securely barred against allintruders. The waiting squaws meekly turned their horses' heads, andfollowed their deluded lords, picking up the beads and nails which hadbeen dropped in their headlong haste.

  "Woe to Maxica," thought Wilfred, "if he should happen to be returningfor his moose!"

  The wild war-whoop died away in the distance, only the roar of thecataract broke the stillness of the snow-laden air.

  De Brunier walked back into his house, to count up the gain and loss,and see how much reckless mischief that morning's work had brought him.